


Bound

by Devcon03



Series: Enclosed [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Breathplay, D/s, Dark, Handcuffs, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mindfuck, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Sticky Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 78,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devcon03/pseuds/Devcon03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Megatron becomes the victim and learns a few, hard truths about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chained

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short little fic, but it grew into a story. Warnings are many, please play attention to them. This is a non-con story, no matter Megatron's reactions. It will deal with the aftermath of a rape and might therefore trigger. Once again - _please_ check the tags and warnings before reading my story. 
> 
> Warnings will be added for each chapter. 
> 
> Beta-read by Redseeker, but I'm to blame if you find any mistake.

The battle took place in a gritty desert.  
  
Megatron shouted orders, leading his troops as they gained terrain. He was enjoying himself, fighting dirty as became a true Decepticon. The promise of destruction made the energon in his fuel lines boil, excited him in a dark, terrible way. The smell of burnt components filled the air, and shouts echoed across the cliffs.  
  
It wasn’t a good day for battle, and the fight had lasted far too long, but Megatron could not pull out until he was sure Soundwave’s mission had succeeded.  
  
The skirmish continued into the valley. It had been simple to fool the Autobots into a trap. It didn’t surprise him when they came after him, but where was Prime? Megatron’s pride demanded a worthy foe, not lackeys. A dark shape came out of the dust. A lowly grunt. The Autobot slammed into him, trying to drag him down. Megatron tore his arm off.  
  
“Insignificant little gnat.”  
  
The mech yelled and Megatron sneered, dropping the arm. He lifted the screaming mech and hurled him straight into his running peers. From the left, Ravage attacked them with a savage snarl. Megatron put his hands on his hips, smearing them with fluids.

So much for that.  
  
He moved along, scanning the field, looking for his nemesis. The sun burnt the very air, scorching him from within with every intake he drew. He ached for some coolant and blessed shade, but there was no time for such daydreams. Mechs were fighting, throttling each-other into hard rocks, breaking their armour against the bare ground. Dust covered everything in its path, made it impossible to get a proper overview.

The warlord coughed some of it out of his vents. He needed to put some distance between himself and those fighting. The battle-field had erupted into a cluttered, disorganised brawl. He snarled in annoyance, kicking a small bot out of his way as he climbed to higher ground.

Nobot saw him leave, but from below he could hear shouts and the sound of blasters being fired. Leaning against a boulder, panting in the heat, he realised something was amiss. He counted, then frowned. There were fewer participants than he’d  expected. Where were the others?  
  
::Soundwave, report.::  
  
No answer.  
  
Megatron crushed the boulder as he hit it, growling under his breath. _Where was Starscream?_ Had the coward acted against his orders, again? He pulled his full height and turned his gaze towards the small power-plant. Far from sufficient, but useful still. If Prime was engaged in a battle against Soundwave, they could still harvest some energy and convert it to a small share of energon.  
  
Something pulled his attention back to the battle-field. He scanned it, cursing under his breath. Less than _eight_  Autobots? Where were the rest? And where was the Command Trine? If Starscream, the coward glitch he was, had pulled out before he’d said so...  
  
He grit his denta, staring at the scene unfolding beneath him. It was all wrong, but what set his sensors into a frenzy was something entirely else. No sound was heard, but the silence was no longer empty. It crept upon him. He pretended ignorance, played along. He would shoot Starscream in the face. Twice.  
  
”You can come out now, coward.”  
  
No answer? Megatron fumed, then turned with his cannon powering up. The sun blinded him for a crucial moment. He was struck with a blow to his temple, and the last thing Megatron knew before falling into stasis was a large, threatening shape blocking out the sun.

*~*~*  
  
It was the straining in his joints that woke Megatron up. He shutter-blinked, then tried to put his arms down. He didn’t succeed.  
  
Reality crashed down and jerked him out of the foggy state he’d been in for the last five kliks or so. He pulled harder, fought the restrains that kept his arms in such a vulnerable position. He didn’t bother asking why he was in such an undignified situation; it reeked of Starscream.  
  
He huffed, then shook what could only be energon-enforced chains. He got nowhere, and tired of the darkness. He switched to infra-red and... nothing. _What?_ What was going on? Had his optics been tampered with?  
  
 _Starscream, I will tear your helm off!  
  
_ He shifted more fully onto his knees and tried to yell. His optics widened in shock; his jaw was locked around something. Something that only let him produce an indistinct groan. Megatron shook in rage; this was undignified!  
  
Engines revving in anger, he threw himself to the sides, trying to dislodge his arms. He would not be the laughing stock of both armies! Damn that Seeker! How dare he do this to his leader? He tried to lean forward and growled, realising that it put him in a worse position. He fought the restrains, but couldn’t break their grip.  
  
Megatron howled in rage and shook, fighting to get free. He failed, and calmed down, panting loudly. He needed to plan his way out of this predicament. When he tried to hail Soundwave again, he found his signal jammed and cut short, as if broken.  
  
He hung his helm between his shoulders and tried to plan ahead, tried to ignore that nagging sensation of something being wrong. Starscream would have been gloating, taunting him, kicking him in the guts. He would have been toying with him. So, if it wasn’t his traitorous second in command – who was it?  
  
*~*~*  
  
The sound of steps coming his way pulled Megatron out of a violent daydream. He cocked his helm and tried to gauge the distance between him and his captor. The mech approaching him sounded heavier than what he’d expected. He frowned. Starscream wasn’t a small mech, compared to many others, but this one sounded really heavy-duty.  
  
The sound was distorted along the way, but it didn’t matter. Megatron tried to smirk around the metal locking his jaw in place. What did this useless piece of slag think of him? That he wouldn’t be able to figure out where he was being kept? He scoffed. He hadn’t left the assembly line yesterday, for frag’s sake.  
  
He started sorting memory-files out, looking for any kind of rocky terrain close to the battle-ground. He needed to find an area with a cave system, somewhere near the place he’d been taken. He was a big mech, and a bot couldn’t just take off with him that easily. He was sure he would figure his whereabouts out, sooner or-  
  
 _Ah!  
_  
Megatron jerked as something stroked his arm. He turned his helm, tried to force his optics to function, but he remained blind. He growled and curled his hands into fists, trying to break the energon-enhanced chains. It... didn’t work. No, no, no! He wouldn’t put up with this, he would not accept being kept like this!  
  
The mech walked around him, steps heavy, determined. Megatron’s armour shifted and tensed under the quiet gaze. When he was touched again, he prided himself with keeping perfectly still. He would not break under the strain, he would _not_ panic.  
  
The glitch came to stand before him, and Megatron grit his denta. He held his helm high, and awaited a swift execution. When none came, he arched an optic ridge. _Interesting_. He waited some more, drawing deep, soft intakes. The tension made his energy fields ripple, made his shoulder-plating rise. He was being watched, was being held a hostage.  
  
He wasn’t being killed.  
  
Under different circumstances, he would have been expecting Starscream’s victorious monologue. He would have been expecting rough touches, purring words of conquest and the vile heat those words drew from the depths of his processor. He shook as his frame responded to the memory of such a time. He snarled. This was not the time for shameful secrets.  
  
Something prodded his chest-plate. Megatron drew back from the alien touch, no longer in the mood for these games. His lips worked around the gag, making infuriated sounds. The touch returned, more bold than before. It went from his chest-plate to down to his hips. It wasn’t a hand that touched him, but some device with a soft end. He shook in rage as it rounded his upper thigh. How dare he? How dare he touch him – _Megatron –_ like this?  
  
Only Starscream had the gall to do it. Only Starscream had gotten away with it, too. _  
  
_He felt the heat rise to his armour. Uninvited, loathed, yet so very real. His core temp kicked up a notch, and Megatron’s growl held a desperate edge. His panel was next, and his hips jerked at the loathed, yet wanted, caress. He gave an angered shout when the soft device teased its way down between his thighs, rubbing the delicate plating of his interface panel. No matter how much he squirmed, it kept touching him, kept teasing.  
  
 _I’ll kill you!_  
  
The snarl came out as muffled sounds only, but the glitch stopped. He did not allow himself a sigh of relief. His captor had an agenda, and Megatron was quite sure it had nothing to do with ending his life. So, when the device was exchanged and a hand gripped his codpiece instead, he moved as fast as he could and helm-butted the malfunctioning piece of slag.  
  
He didn’t hit a helm, nor did he hit somebot’s midriff. He hit a shoulder, barely denting it, but it forced his assaulter away. He was surprised and not so little suspicious. There weren’t many mechs of his size, were there now? At least the hand was gone, and the slagger would have to rethink his ambitious plans of molesting him.

Chained, gagged and blinded, he _still_ was the ruler of Cybertron, and no bot’s push-over!  
  
This close, he could hear the other mech’s intakes. He swallowed. He felt  his captor’s fields press down on his own, forcing another wave of heat through his cabling. The glitch shifted and Megatron was suddenly acutely aware of his vulnerable position. He wondered how it must look for the other, and his processor dug up those old memory-files he’d kept away from everything. Himself included. Files he was pretty sure he’d discarded and deleted long ago.  
  
 _”You look good like this, Megatron. It suits you, being bound. Such a pity for your duties as a_ leader _. Perhaps I should inform your loyal army that their lord will be busy for the rest of the day? Perhaps I should tell the Autobots, that the great Megatron will not join the battle...”  
  
_ Megatron’s engines gave a loud rev, and his optics widened. No. No, no and no! He was not... He didn’t _enjoy_ this! It did not matter what his traitor of a frame enjoyed, he was not willing! He pulled his processor away from that loathed memory and forced himself to concentrate on the now. He pulled at his restraints again, refusing to accept his predicament.  
  
”There are mechs who would do anything to be in your place,” an unknown set of vocals said against his audio, startling him. “There have been mechs willing to die for the honour. They all knew what it truly meant to serve.”

Megatron’s optics were wide, his spark a pulsing mass of repulsion and need. He felt rage curl like a wounded beast in his tank, and he snarled. What was this? Who dared to speak to him in such terms? His intakes rattled in his chest and he ignored how the other’s proximity seemed to turn his frame into a traitor.  
  
The other mech stroked his helm, angling it backwards as his large fingers curled around Megatron’s neck. The grip was strong, and squeezed his fuel-lines until Megatron was forced to divert his intakes. He kept his reactions on a leash, refused to be forced into action. He couldn’t move, was completely in the stranger’s mercy.  
  
Why did it affect him so? His armour felt hyper-sensitive and tight. Being put into this position should have made it crawl. He swallowed hard when the other spoke against his audio again.  
  
”You don’t strike me as the kind who would understand such a thing. You are the kind who would demand everything, play with those beneath you. You lack self-discipline and have no self-control.”  
  
It was a scolding. It was uttered with cold, almost bored, vocals. It wasn’t said in passion, it wasn’t said in anger. It was nothing but a clinical observation, and yet Megatron felt the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth. It tasted like ashes. He growled. He did not care for that tone, and he certainly didn’t care for the critique.  
  
....then why did he feel so ashamed?  
  
“You are unfit to be a leader.”  
  
Megatron shook and snarled, then howled in anger. His hands curled and uncurled, fingers clawing the air. He tried to bare his denta, pulling at his chains. He couldn’t move his helm away, but tried anyway. The gag made it impossible for him to speak, but it didn’t stop him from trying. It didn’t matter, and soon he was fighting as much as he could.  
  
It brought him nowhere, and for all his worries, he got less than a pat on his helm as his captor stood up and walked around to face him again.  
  
”What do you know about serving, I wonder?” the glitch eventually said. He stroked Megatron’s bound arms with his hands, standing close enough to disturb Megatron’s whole system, yet too far away to kill. “Have you ever served those you rule?”  
  
He snorted, then laughed. It sounded ugly, but Megatron didn’t care. He held his helm high and proud. Let the cog-sucker see the warlord the whole universe had learnt to fear. Megatron was proud of his own achievements, and he would not be made less than he was. Serving was for those too weak to lead, and every bot under his rule knew his place.  
  
”No,” the mech said, fingers trailing along the delicate wiring in Megatron’s elbows and upper arms. He crouched before Megatron. “You’ve never served anybot, have you? I wonder what would happen if you actually learnt how to lead. It would be the end of the Autobots, I think.”  
  
To that, Megatron had no idea how to react. He frowned. The other was too close again, and he didn’t like it. The pressure on his energy field was increasing, and his vents kicked up a notch. It was mortifying, how this proximity made him want to throw himself into that heat and just... just let go. He snapped out of it, cursing himself for being weak, and tried to find his balance again.  
  
Hands were stroking Megatron’s armour and there was no place to hide. He felt himself react to the caress and writhed. He shook his helm, blinded and held in place, made vulnerable. He should hate it, he should refuse to feel anything at all, but when those skilled hands reached his panel and fondled it roughly, he arched into the touch.  
  
His dignity was gone the instant those fingers found the latch and opened it. He gave a weak gasp, loathing himself for it. There was no mistaking the sudden peak of his core temp rising. It was disgusting. How could he be enjoying this? How could he let himself tremble at the idea of being ravished like this? He shook, feeling the tension rise. His desires were twisted, so very wrong for a mech of his stature. At least nobot knew...

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? He’d let one mech see and look where it had taken them. It had ruined _everything_. They’d never been able to move beyond that point either, and it weighed down on them, tore them apart. Shredded whatever it was they’d had in the first place. Megatron had learnt the hard way that some things you cannot share with those you thought you could trust.  
  
This situation was something else entirely. He was bound, and as much as he hated to admit it, completely vulnerable and helpless. He drew a deep intake and tried to gather his wits. What could he do, more than allow his feverish frame to enjoy itself? If his captor wanted him dead, he would have gotten rid of Megatron before the warlord woke up. So, what ever the mech wanted, probably didn’t involve death.

Unless the glitch wanted to torture him.  
  
He was open, bared for the world to see. The thought made made his valve tighten up, made it _wet_. Here he was, the great tyrant, bound and forced open. He shuddered and caught the scent of his own excitement. It was heady, sweet and utterly wrong. When the unknown mech touched his bared interface array, he threw his helm back in protest. He tried to move away from those fingers, but he had no place to go.  
  
The fingers reached him, stroked his sensitive plating gently. Megatron grunted, jerked his hips once, then stilled. Fear pooled in his tank, and his spark spun wildly in its chamber. His captor didn’t go for his valve, but rubbed his spike housing, as if testing his self-control. At this point, Megatron had none, but he fought valiantly, and kept his spike sheathed. It was hard, so very hard to remain in control.   
  
He hung his helm, intakes shallow, fast. He heard the chains tremble, was acutely aware of the other mech’s touch. It left invisible prints all over him, specially when those fingers stroked gently, yet persistently.  
  
”You hate weakness,” the stranger said, and Megatron couldn’t detect any mockery in his vocals. “You destroy it everywhere you see it. I wonder if it’s yourself you are killing over and over again. You loath yourself, don’t you? You hate what you want, and you hate that you want it.”  
  
Megatron was fuming. He couldn’t pull back more, but the sting of humiliation felt far worse now. Who was this mech? _Who was he?!_  
  
“You should have been trained in the art of serving long ago, but something tells me it never got that far. Somebot betrayed your trust, didn’t he? Somebot used you, left you broken.”  
  
... _Trained?_  
  
Megatron’s lips worked around the gag, his face set into a furious scowl. _Serving?!_ How dare he? Megatron, trained like a... Like a pet?! He snarled, flushing in anger and excitement both. He hated the conflict, was disgusted by it. He forced himself to concentrate on the anger and pulled strength from it. A warlord did not serve, and Megatron would _never_ -  
  
He howled when the stranger pulled at his outer node, pinching hard, rolling it between his fingers. The pleasure-pain blazed and moved like a bolt through his frame, left him weak. He panted, shook his helm, but the glitch wouldn’t stop. He kept tormenting him, rubbing and pulling, pinching and playing until Megatron gave a thin cry and gave in. When his spike pressurised, the rough play stopped.  
  
Nothing but blessed silence followed, and Megatron was left to collect himself. The cold air caressed his spike, and the proximity of his captor was as intoxicating as frightening. He sampled that fear and tasted it, loathing himself for wanting that very mix used against him. He hated this weakness of his, that much was true. His intakes calmed down after a few kliks, and then the other spoke again.  
  
This time Megatron was all audios.  
  
”I’ll teach you to serve,” the other said, and his hand curled around Megatron’s spike, tugging at it. “I’ll make you crave it, to be used and fucked until there’s nothing in your processor but the need to submit.”  
  
Megatron’s processor was reeling, his hips pumping into the mech’s hand. He groaned when a thumb wiped some transfluid from the spike’s head. When the stranger resumed his actions, Megatron moved with him, willingly shifting against him, needing the contact to ground him.  
  
He was terrified. He was furious. He was burning up.  
  
 _I’ll never submit, but I’ll accept  this and learn who you are, and then... Then I’ll find you, shoot you and break your frame apart, limb after limb. I will_ kill _you._  
  
~*~*~  
  
Megatron shifted, spreading his thighs open. He was on the verge of coming again, but the device fastened to the base of his spike refused him his release. He growled, pulled at the chains, fighting the bonds weakly. He _needed_ to come, he wanted it, he could taste the overload. He tried to override the toy for the fourth time and gave an annoyed growl when he failed.  
  
”No,” the his hated captor said, forcing his helm back. “Not yet.”  
  
 _Then, when?!_ Megatron wanted to howl, but he was still gagged. His face must have shown his steadily increasing annoyance, because two sharp lashes later, his helm was roughly pulled back and his captor’s breath tickled his face.  
  
”Not yet, I said,” the other growled. “You won’t come until I give you permission, do you hear me? Next time you try to break the rules, I’ll use you and won’t let you come. Is that clear?”  
  
The whip’s soft end stroked his aching spike and Megatron nodded. He forced himself to relax, let the tension bleed out of his frame. When his intakes were as calm as they would get, his captor let go of his helm and started to fondle him again. Hands everywhere, even lips, suckling and licking every inch of him. The toy fastened around his spike started vibrating again, and he gave a low whine, shaking with the force of it.  
  
He knew who held the power, and it certainly wasn’t him. His captor had made that clear, and Megatron was no novice in the art of war. Things like these had happened before, and the poor fragger caught like this never came out of it alive, or whole. Or sane. He guarded his processor and spark, forced himself to get lost in the now. If he survived this little lesson, he would make sure to deal with whatever trauma it left in its wake by killing several Autobots.

“Again,” the cog-sucker said, this time facing him. “Spread your thighs for me again, and show me your valve. I want to see your lubricant drip.”  
  
Megatron’s core temp rose to worrying levels, but he did as he was told. He felt the heavy gaze weigh down on him, and his fields crackled. His valve tightened and his spike ached – his whole frame felt too sensitive already. He sucked in some air and cycled a shuddering sigh, willing himself to produce more lubricant. Just knowing his valve was being inspected like this made his tank flutter.  
  
”Being bound suits you very well,” the other commented all of a sudden, a hand stroking his clenched fist. “You look regal, even like this. _Especially_ like this,” his captor said with a dark growl.  
  
The words made him shiver, and he angled his hips to give the glitch a better view. He was ashamed, but it made him only crave more. He turned his helm away and hissed when he felt a single drop of lubricant slide down his thigh. His face burned, and he felt mortified at being forced to perform such a disgusting act of... of...  
  
He lost what ever thought he had when he felt the wip rub against the folds of his valve. He jerked and squirmed, but the mech knew what he was doing, and wouldn’t let him get away. The softness of the whip’s tip followed him, moved with him, and when Megatron moaned and stilled, it still played against him.  
  
”You are wet. Hmm, all ready for me, aren’t you?”  
  
Megatron shook his helm, his spark and processor denying the truth. No, he wasn’t ready for anybot! He was Megatron, for frag’s sake! Tyrant, feared and loathed. Strong, competent, leader of the best army of killers throughout the universe! How could he ever be _ready_ for anybot?  
  
The tip pushed in between his folds and Megatron yelped. The sound came out muffled, but there was no mistaking his reaction, or what he felt. He shook his helm, optics wide, but the glitch angled his hold of the whip and pressed the tip inside.  
  
It _burned_ his insides. Megatron shouted, face-plates rigid, but the sound came out as a sobbing moan. His captor didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, his movements lazy. Now and then he murmured filthy, encouraging words.  
  
The world was crumbling around him, he was falling to pieces, and Megatron did the only thing he could – he clung to the sound of those unknown vocals. He didn’t even notice that he was being told to do something. He didn’t pay attention, and when the whip slid out, he slumped forward.  
  
 _Thank_ _Primus_ , it had stopped... It had stopped.  
  
A sharp sting threw him out of his daze. He hissed and tried to get away, but the whip hit his valve again and again. It didn’t actually hurt, but he snarled in distress, hating the sting for all the warmth it brought forth. He was too hot, felt overcharged, and soon he couldn’t do much more than tremble, and wait for the next lash. He lost count of how many times the whip hit his valve and spike.  
  
By now, he hung from his chains, letting them support his entire weight. His vents whined, and he shuttered his unseeing optics. He couldn’t take it any more, he just couldn’t. He pulled at the chains, shaking his helm from side to side, unable to process what he was feeling. The pain came mixed with pleasure, and he keened in desperation, the sound raw and wounded.  
  
The stinging stopped, and nothing but blessed silence followed.  
  
Megatron trembled, exhausted in a way he couldn’t begin to understand. He swallowed hard, then drew a broken intake. His spike ached, and his valve was dripping wet. It felt sore. He hadn’t been breached for millions upon millions of years, and the whip had been too much. He woundn’t be able to take a spike, would he? It would be painful at best. The thought made him tense, and his fields shrunk into his frame, weak and distorted. He felt like he was dreaming.  
  
A hand grabbed his chin and forced his helm up. The fight had gone out of him, and he sighed, let himself be manhandled. He swayed, wishing his captor would let their frames touch.  
  
”Can you hear me?”  
  
Megatron nodded, dizzy, but the world held a dream-like quality.  Hands stroked his helm and face, caressed him until he could concentrate on something else but the strange state his frame had put him in. He swallowed hard, tried to say something, but the gag wouldn’t let him.  
  
”When I talk, you listen,” his captor said, and Megatron found himself nodding again. “If you don’t, I’ll punish you. I did warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. Let this be a lesson.”  
  
He shuddered. A lesson? He’d been battling for millions of years, had been mortally wounded so many times he'd lost count. He’d faced enemies of every kind, and he’d come out of it alive. Despite this, dread filled his spark. Punishment of this kind... It could break him, and he wouldn’t be able to process if such a thing happened again. Not like this. Not when bound, gagged and blinded.   
  
Lesson learnt, Megatron nodded, and waited for instructions.  
  
Nimble fingers reached around his helm all of a sudden and the hiss of a mag-lock was heard. His captor murmured soothingly, and continued to remove the gag. With it gone, Megatron felt more in control. He opened his mouth to demand answers, but shut it quickly when he felt the tip of that hated whip nudge his inner thigh. The conflict that followed made his processor reel; rage and lust battled the horrible need to submit. In the end, he chose the latter.  
  
He vowed that he would find this mech and kill him. As for now...  
  
Submission.  
  
”Did it hurt?”  
  
Megatron hissed, bucking his hips. The whip was caressing his valve again. Had it hurt? Yes, and no. It had made him feel weak, helpless. It had made his valve throb, had made him feel the pulse of his spark between his legs. There had been a sting, but it had become a blanketing warmth, and he’d been lost in it. He opened his dry lips and worked his jaw. The whip pushed against his folds and Megatron felt true despair for the very first time in his existence.  
  
When he finally found his vocals, they were filled with static. “... _Yes_.”  
  
He’d been wounded in his long life, but nothing had hurt more than this. Nothing had made him feel more helpless. Nothing had damaged him this deep. He loathed that whip, and he craved it. All of it. His face gave him away, he knew that, but he couldn’t control his features. His captor leaned closer, and a strong hand fisted his spike, pulling and tugging. Megatron made a sound like a dying beast.  
  
“Do you want to come?”  
  
These games were taking everything from him. He wanted to scream, but the whip pushed against the rim of his valve, and he remembered the burn. He shuttered his optics, tried to find something to hold onto. There was nothing. Everything had been taken away from him. He’d been robbed of control, entirely.  
  
The nameless mech waited for his answer, and his grip of Megatron’s spike increased. Megatron drew a sobbing intake, shaking his helm, protesting. He... He couldn’t! But, when a thumb wiped transfluid from his spike, he knew the battle was lost. It cost him his dignity, his pride and everything he’d carefully told himself over millennia. It shattered him, but the choice had been taken from him.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What do you say, when you want something?”  
  
 _Give it to me!  
  
_ ”...Please.”  
  
The hand slowed down, and Megatron slumped tiredly. The chains held him in place, held him up. It felt... good. He panted, frame so very hot. A hand gripped his helm and angled his face, and then a glossa licked his lower lip. He jerked, then relaxed into the soft treatment. He knew he could bite the other, but what would happen to him then? He would most likely be subjected to pain, and he didn’t enjoy the idea of listening to his own screams.  
  
His captor nipped his lip and Megatron gave him the access he knew the other wanted. The kiss was ardent, almost brutal, and he moaned into it. Still the fragger wouldn’t let their frames touch, and he found himself holding onto the chains, clinging, as the kiss became deeper. His moans were muffled, and he was happy to hear his captor groan too.  
  
What madness was this?  
  
It ended far too soon, but Megatron didn’t protest. Now hands roamed his frame again, touched everything. He willingly spread his thighs open when the warm palms reached his hips. He felt... No, he _didn’t_ , he snarled back at his traitorous frame. He would endure anything to get out of this alive, and then forget all about it. He certainly wouldn’t be made to _beg_. He wouldn’t-  
  
”...Nnnghh!”  
  
He bit his own glossa, and that to keep the embarrassing things he’d been about to blurt out. His captor touched his valve, and his other hand angled his aft. Megatron tried to pull back, but failed. Fingers spread the soft petal-like folds, opened him, and stroked the rim of his valve. He gasped at the alien sensation, shaking his helm. No. No, no, no! It didn’t stop the fragger, and the fingers slid gently against the slick, hyper-sensitive metal.  
  
”How does this feel?”  
  
” _Wrong_ ,” Megatron snarled, shaking so hard it was ridiculous. His captor chuckled and he hissed, then bucked. He writhed when a finger pressed down upon the outer node, teasing it mercilessly. It felt good, and he hated every moment of it. It felt so good he wanted to scream.  
  
”Too bad,” the cog-sucker murmured. “I’m enjoying myself. Your valve looks so very pretty... All silver, slick and _wet_. You look like a well-trained drone, oh mighty Megatron. And now, you are _my_ drone.”  
  
Megatron choked on those words. He snarled and threw his helm back, howling in rage. The nameless mech purred at his reaction, and then Megatron froze. The rage left him and dread filled his tank. He couldn’t see, but he still moved his helm, angled it, tried to see.  
  
”That is a finger,” the hated mech told him as he slowly worked said finger into him. “It’s not the longest or the thickest one, but you are too tight for anything else. And _this_ ,” he growled, “would be your sweet-spot.”  
  
His optics were wide, and his mouth jaws worked, but no sound left Megatron, no matter how hard he tried. His intakes came too fast, his vents spluttering as they fought to keep him from overheating. He didn’t know what he was feeling. It wasn’t pleasure, it couldn’t be. It was too acute, to strong. It _burned_...  
  
It was the best thing he’d ever felt.  
  
”S-Stop,” he whispered. “Stop... don’t!”  
  
”You aren’t the one giving orders here,” his captor said, and Megatron heard the smile in his vocals. “I can feel your frame react to this manipulation. When I press here, aaah, yes. That’s the spot, isn’t it?”  
  
Megatron groaned, shaking his helm in denial, but his frame didn’t obey him. Every time that finger slid in and out and rubbed the soft membrane it was tormenting, Megatron’s hips would jerk and push down. The glitch was talking again, and he desperately clung to those words.  
  
”I will add another finger now, and I will make your valve come. The mag-lock stays around your spike. Now, spread yourself for me.”  
  
He obeyed before he knew he was doing it, and then it was too late. Two fingers...? It felt far worse than that, and he grit his denta. It hurt, but only for a moment or two, then the pain turned into loathed pleasure. He gasped, spreading his thighs wider, welcoming the intrusion. Primus, what was he feeling?  
  
He knew pain. He knew pleasure. He’d never known both, at once. The fingers moved in and out of him, went deeper, and Megatron heard his own intakes, heard the sounds he was making. Now and then, his captor would stroke his aching spike, and his processor would be lost in the bliss that followed. He nodded and angled his hips, not just accepting the violation of his frame, but craving it. He wasn’t willing, couldn’t be, would never be, but this...  
  
”Ask for it,” the sound of those loathed vocals told him. “Beg me for it, Megatron.”  
  
He screamed in defiance, holding onto the last strand of self-control he had. He wouldn’t beg, w-wouldn’t...  
  
Another finger, and the world shattered.  
  
”Beg!”  
  
Megatron didn’t recognise his own vocals, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the release. He swallowed his pride, his dignity, and gave in.  
  
”L-Let me come, you fragger, j-just let... Let me, please! _Please!_ ”  
  
The stranger growled and Megatron felt it in his valve. He cried out when those fingers suddenly rotated and pumped harder and deeper than before. He arched and howled, his sweet-spot being hit every singly time. There was only so much of that he could take, and within a klik, his valve convulsed and tightened until he wailed. He came so hard, and for so long, he lost it.  
  
Rasping intakes, his own, greeted him when his systems rebooted.  
  
His spike ached, and his valve felt sore. He shifted, frame weakened by the intense overload, and the whole situation. He was still blinded, but the gag had been put away, at least. Primus, if he’d woken up with it...  
  
”How do you feel?”  
  
 _Used. Violated. Spent... exhausted. Broken.  
  
_ ”Alive,” he sneered. He hadn’t expected to come out of it alive, of course. What was the point of this, really? A lesson? He frowned, then shifted. His spike, locked in arousal, twitched. He snarled quietly, felt the other’s gaze move down his frame, felt it settle between his thighs.  
  
No answer but silence. Undisturbed, save for his laboured intakes, it seemingly went on forever. Eventually, Megatron cycled a sigh. He slumped, his aggression bleeding out of him He had nothing he could use against this mysterious mech, had he? Not like this, anyway, and not now. He lifted his helm, blinded still, and tried to imagine who it was. Who he was supposed to kill. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t kill this fragger. To erase this shameful experience, he needed to kill him.  
  
The mech’s proximity increased, and Megatron tensed. What could he possibly want now? His valve? Three fingers had hurled him into stasis, screaming his spark out. Three fingers were far from a spike, and his captor was a big mech. The idea of being taken, bound and blinded, made his armour crawl, made his spike strain. His valve, sore and wet, liked the idea.  
  
The mag-lock around his spike fell off, deactivated. Megatron shuddered, biting down on a groan. When his captor palmed his spike, he did his best to stay docile. No order had been issued, but he wouldn’t put himself through another round with the whip. It was hard, however, to keep quiet. It was even harder to force his hips to remain still. Soon, his intakes were coming faster, more shallow.  
  
”I want you to count down from ten when you feel your overload approaching,” the nameless mech said. “And when you are almost there, you will hold it back until I give you permission to come.”  
  
He did something with his hand, twisted it, and Megatron gasped. “You... You want me to h-hold back?”  
  
How the frag was he supposed to do that? He arched, gasping for air, then moved into the glitch’s hand. They set a steady rhythm, and Megatron could feel the other’s fields push down on his own. Pleasure pooled in his tank, made him vocal. A few tugs later, he felt the tension rise.  
  
”I, aah, I... Nnghh-!”  
  
” _Count_ ,” his captor snapped, and Megatron hated him, but followed his command.  
  
”Ten, n-nine...”  
  
Eight, seven and six. Five, four and three, two and... and... And, _Primus_ , how he fought himself. He did his best, forced to hold the overload back. He grit his denta, moaned, and shook so hard he heard the chains protest as well. His thighs trembled, and the strain made him light-headed. He wouldn’t be able to hold it back, he...  
  
”A leader,” his captor said, vocals steady as if Megatron wasn’t on the verge of coming, as if he wasn’t fondling his spike and now, valve too, “serves his people. A leader controls himself. A leader does not give into his basic needs, nor does a leader put his own needs above others'.”  
  
Megatron cried out, his whole frame tensing until he couldn’t process, and yet he kept his audios locked onto those vocals.  
  
”A leader knows his own failures, and learns from his mistakes. A leader knows how to sacrifice himself, if needed. A leader,” the nameless mech continued as his fingers pumped and stroked Megatron’s straining spike, as he spread Megatron’s valve open, “knows that he’s duty is to serve those who follow him.”  
  
It was too much, and Megatron wailed, forcing the scorching pleasure back. He clung to the chains, and angled his hips, silently begging. He couldn’t afford to say anything, couldn’t draw another intake, couldn’t take it any longer. He sobbed and opened unseeing optics, face set into a pained scowl.  
  
His captor leaned forward and pulled him into a rough kiss. Megatron moaned and let himself be ravished. There was little else he could do. He gasped into the kiss when fingers slid inside him, fucking him hard and deep. The hand around his spike stroked faster, and he sobbed, overwhelmed.  
  
”O-One,” he whispered into the kiss. “One, o-one, _one_...”  
  
The mech bit his lip until the scent of energon filled Megatron’s olfactory sensors, and then he latched onto it, tasting Megatron’s life substance. When the mech kissed him again, Megatron heard the rumble of strong engines and knew his captor was enjoying himself. It was such a bestial display of dominance that Megatron ruled out every single Autobot from his list of suspects.  
  
He was on the very edge, and his hips snapped and ground down on those thick fingers, craving more. His spike pulsed, and Megatron pulled back from the kiss. The pleasure was pain-laced now, and he snarled, desperate to come, yet unwilling to submit himself for yet another round of that whip.  
  
”One,” he rasped, “o-one...”  
  
When he’d first woken up, he’d expected torture. He’d expected a swift and painful death. He’d expected mockery and molesting, some degradation too. He’d expected quite a lot, but never this amount of pleasure, nor the tightly controlled pain. He’d never known the combination. He'd never tasted the sweet fear that drowned everything out, had never known how much he wanted it.  
  
This mech, unknown and so strong, was doing something outrageous to him, forcing him to accept truths he’d never wanted to face. He made him crave his mastery, made him need it. He felt like he was falling, yet never reaching the end. He felt like the universe was made out of needles, each one of them slowly pushing into him, ripping him apart. He felt exposed and used, taken and claimed.  
  
His frame jolted and convulsed, and he cried out. This was _torture_ , and he was on the very edge of a bottomless hole, almost falling, almost...!  
  
”One, one, one, o- _one_ ,” he chanted in despair, his vocals coloured by equal amounts of pain and pleasure.  
  
”Do you want to come?” asked the hated glitch that had done this to him, his denta raking over Megatron’s jawline.  
  
Megatron nodded, vents roaring. He let his captor see what he’d done to him. Let him behold the raw fear, the desperate need, the conflict within. This mech had managed to capture him, to bring him down. He’d broken Megatron, fiercest of warriors. There was nothing left. _He_ was nothing but an instrument in the hands of this stranger.  
  
”What does a leader do?”  
  
The words were uttered like a lover’s words, right onto his audio. Megatron sobbed, grinding down onto those fingers, loving how they marked him from within. The pain was gone, and all that remained was the steadily climbing peak. He grit his denta and forced himself to remember. What... what does a leader do...?  
  
 _Lead. Take command. Control. Dominate. Fight for power! Kill any glitch in his way. A leader... a leader...  
  
_ ”...s-serve,” he whispered. “A leader serves.”  
  
”Well done,” the stranger said, and pushed a third finger inside, using the strength Megatron had suspected him to have. “Now you may come.”  
  
Megatron opened his lips, but not a single sound was heard. It had been too much for too long, but now he was allowed to feel another frame against his feverish limbs. He threw his helm back and screamed silently. He came while the other mech told him how he looked, and how he felt.  
  
It hurt, it hurt so good, finally being allowed to come. It was like his frame had been holding back just for this single command.  
  
His spike made a mess between them, but Megatron was beyond caring. His intakes came in weak, shallow sobs. He’d had lovers. He’d taken lovers. He’d felt pleasure, but that was nothing compared to _this_. He writhed, pulled helplessly at the chains holding him in place. His spark seemed to pulse in rhythm with his valve, and then his captor decided to make him come again. He screamed, pushing down onto those perfectly shaped fingers, just as they assaulted his sweet-spot.  
  
His tormentor bit him, and he fell, and the world was no more.

*~*~*  
  
There was floor beneath him when he came around.  
  
”...Aah, w-where... am I?”  
  
He was weak, drained, and not quite awake. He felt quite wonderful too, almost overcharged. When he tried to move his arms, he found them chained. It should have bothered him, but Megatron had no strength left. He would fight another day.  
  
”In a human-made cave-system,” those mysterious vocals answered him. “We are beneath ground.”  
  
Ah.  
  
Megatron shifted, kept his optics shuttered. He felt the mess between his thighs and squirmed. He was _filthy_... It brought a flush to his face, and he knew his captor was watching him. Again. Fragging glitch. He made an attempt to move, but changed his processor. Who was he trying to fool? He’d been made tame, and by a Decepticon nonetheless.  
  
He frowned and turned his helm. Shame clawed at his spark. To be seen like this... No Decepticon would follow a leader who secretly yearned for being bound. Taken. Pushed beyond his limits. No Decepticon would let him lead. He’d learnt that long ago, hadn’t he? When he’d been stupid enough to share a few, nice secrets with Starscream. He’d trusted the Seeker, had liked him well enough to show him what he truly liked. He cursed that decision, and would forever loath the mistake he’d made. It had been the wrong thing to do, had been a risk too high, and look where it had taken them.  
  
Starscream still thought him to be unfit to be a leader.  
  
This wasn’t Starscream, of course. Starscream would never have been able to pull this stunt. The amount of self-control... It made Megatron wonder, who would be able to keep their spike sheathed even though their lover and prey was screaming in release. It would have taken _him_ every inch of self-discipline...  
  
Who was it?  
  
Soundwave? Hook? _Who?  
  
_ If this came out, for how long would he stay a leader? How long, before the balance would break, and he would be forced to submit? His warriors were feral, just like he liked them. He didn’t enjoy the idea of them seeing him as something to use. No, he’d rather die, and before that, _kill_.  
  
He curled his hands into fists and snarled. There was no strength in his frame, and he knew why – emotional strain, the shock of processor-shattering pleasure. The horrible truth revealed, of what he liked and how.  
  
Stasis-cuffs.

“Will you let me go?”  
  
Instead of an answer, Megatron heard, then felt, how the mech get onto his knees and in between his thighs. He swallowed hard, and then grit his denta before he said something that would put him in a bigger disadvantage. He’d learnt what it meant to annoy this mech. He was sore and spent, far from interested in another round with that whip. It had been humiliating enough to come like he’d done before.  
  
He gave a sullen glare to the world in general and cycled a few, deep intakes. He would survive this, and then he would spend every cycle awake trying to figure out who’d been his assailant. Once found, he would be terminated in the most painful way possible.  
  
”You are a mess,” the mech murmured, pushing Megatron’s thighs open.  
  
”What did you expect?” Megatron snapped, cursing himself twice over. This was a mech who’d looked up to him, once upon a time. This was a mech who had never seen his leader’s valve, either. A mech who would brag about this, no doubt, to half the army. A threat.  
  
A dead mech walking.

There was a chuckle, some rustling, and then Megatron grunted. His thighs were pressed up and to the side, opening him up. He gave a quiet snarl and tried to hide his face again. He felt a stream of air hit his valve and his spike-housing. He swallowed, squirmed, but couldn’t get away from yet another vent.  
  
Oh, for frag’s sake, what now?!  
  
What did he want, this fool? A nice shot of his used valve, still wet and sore? Did he want to humiliate him even more? What-  
  
...oh. _Oh!  
  
_ ”What... What are you doing?!”  
  
Megatron felt his face-plates burn, and he lifted his helm off the ground, tried to stare at his captor. He was, of course, still blinded. It didn’t change anything, and he gasped loudly. His helm fell back, and he groaned, shuddering over and over gain. He grabbed the chains and held onto them, desperate to ignore the wet, prodding, slick glossa soundly licking and lapping his fluids right off his... his...  
  
This was _no_ Decepticon.  
  
The sounds his captor was making, purrs and suckling noises, left his processor reeling. _Why_ would... Who the frag would... But, there was no mistaking that glossa, and how it licked him clean. He moaned despite his efforts not to, and undulated his hips. Strong hands grabbed his aft and lifted him off the ground, and a face pushed right against his tender plating, and the protective folds of his valve.  
  
It was filthy and yet, so deliciously tender.  
  
He shook his helm, knowing that no Decepticon with an inch of self-respect would do this, clean a victim this way. He swallowed a groan and fought the rising sweetness spreading from his valve and throughout his frame. He felt restless, weird. There was no taunting, and no mind-games in sight. The way he was held open, how those fingers kneaded his thighs, and the way the glossa and lips would almost lovingly lap and clean him...  
  
When the glossa dipped inside his valve, Megatron arched, worrying his lower lip. He felt the first signs of a sweet overload approach. His processor was desperately trying to find clues of his captors identity. So, if it wasn’t a Decepticon...  
  
Then who was it?  
  
It went seemingly on forever. Slow and sweet, hands caressing him gently, helping him to relax until the climax hit. He gasped and moaned, riding that glossa, loving and hating it both. When the heady wave of bliss finally withdrew, he was left with a sense of dread, buried deep beneath the intense pleasure. The way his sated frame had come to accept this kind of dominance was terrifying. It was far worse than the promise of punishment or the threat of exposure.  
  
The identity of his kidnapper still remained a mystery. He had battled so many, and while there weren’t a lot of big mechs around, he still couldn’t gauge his captor’s actual size. Big hands, strong frame, but there were so many mechs it could be. He knew now, for sure, it wasn’t a Decepticon. It simply wasn’t in their coding to take care of somebot this way, unless bonded, and _that_ wasn’t something he encouraged.  
  
Decepticons ruled out, he was left with one question: exactly _when_ had Autobots started to crave their greatest enemy’s submission this way?  
  
Megatron sighed and shuttered his optics. He was too tired to move, too drained to give a damn. If he was to be killed, he’d at least gotten the best frag in his life. He felt a calm settle over his frame and spark both. It was strange, how safe he could feel, even when bound and spread open.  
  
Between his legs, his captor was currently closing his interface panel with careful fingers. The mech was kneeling now, gently stroking his thighs and peds. He was probably watching his handiwork. Megatron felt his lips curl into a wry smile, knowing that he cut a rather impressive picture this way.  
  
One last thing remained to be asked.  
  
”Will you let me go, or will you kill me now?”  
  
”Perhaps I should let you live. I think you’ll want to find me,” his captor replied, the smile audible in his vocals. And not just a smile, but pride and a cock-sure strength that made Megatron’s valve tighten.  
  
He snarled and pulled at the chains, made weak by stasis-cuffs and pleasure both. Who the slag did he think he was? How _dare_ he...? He tried to lift a pede to kick the glitch, but the stasis-cuffs sucked his strength right out of his system. He gave a wounded grunt and gave up.  
  
”I’ll find you,” he panted, “and make you wish you’d killed me.”  
  
It was a promise.  
  
For the longest time his captor kept his silence, and then, there was the sound of a gun being loaded. Megatron tensed and pulled harder at the chains. He didn’t want to die, slaggit, not until he’d crushed his tormentor's helm against the ground. He snarled and pulled again, and again.  
  
”Until next time,” the malfunctioning drone said, and then Megatron knew no more.  
  
*~*~*  
  
When Megatron woke up, his vision was blurry. He felt faintly sick, and had to curl into himself as his processor raced. His hands shook against his chest-plate, and he fought bitterly to collect himself. Once he could trust his systems, he lifted his helm and crawled up into a sitting position. He looked around, trying to find any landmark he recognised.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He touched his helm, then lowered his hand to the obvious bite there. A love-bite, or a mark of possession. Either way, he surely wouldn’t let his officers find him with it. He sat back, his back against a boulder, and stared at the rocky ground. What had happened...?  
  
There was no logic behind the assault. There was nothing but those mocking words, and later, the processor-shattering pleasure, the sweet pain. He grit his denta and snarled, hated the glitch who’d done this to him. He... he’d been made anew, he’d been broken and put together.  
  
He’d been marked.  
  
When he looked up, the sun was settling. He looked at his frame, but saw no colour but his own. Slag. If his tormentor had any mark left, he’d at least been granted a good guess. Now he would have to start actually paying attention to those annoying Autobots he fought. He would have to listen to their vocals, just to recognise the one who’d dared to touch him.  
  
Megatron growled and started going through everything he knew about the Prime’s troops, those on this mudball and the ones scattered across the universe, too. Among them, there would be a slagger who was strong and intelligent enough to capture himself a warlord. And, when Megatron found _him_...  
  
Mercy would be a swift death, but Megatron hadn’t taken his seat by showing mercy, had he now...?  
  
He set out to plan, his spark set on revenge.


	2. The Rules Of The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron has been found, and it’s up to his officers to deal with the aftermath of the events.

It wasn't until the battle-dust had settled, and the Autobots had taken to wheels, practically fleeing, that Starscream had realised they'd won. Moments before, he'd been busy shouting retreat, but the tide had changed. Now he transformed and landed, his face set into a disgusted scowl as he let the Autobots run away. He looked around, rather pleased with himself – a few enemies had fallen, but he had no time to round them up. The Autobots would come back for them later and do what every decent Cybertronian ought to do – leave absolutely nothing behind for the humans to scavange. He gave a few orders, and soon the fallen Autobots where hidden below boulders and dirt, where they belonged.

The sunset had come and gone when Starscream realised that he'd been the only one organising the small portion of the army Megatron had dragged out into the desert. He cursed their glorious leader for not being there, forcing Starscream to carry out all the work. By his side, Soundwave was inspecting the troops, counting their numbers. The teams hadn't suffered any losses, but quite a few needed Hook's aid. Two seekers had been heavily injured, no thanks to those malfunctioning glitches who enjoyed wrecking them whilst airborne.

He saw it fit to return to base, ignoring the nagging sensation of something being very wrong.

*~*~*

Some time had passed when Soundwave approached him. Starscream was sitting by a sturdy bench, working upon some gadget to relax after a long day, enjoying himself. Soundwave, however, didn't care for his well-earned rest. The mech ignored his irritated glance, and then coolly informed him that Megatron had never reached the security of their base. For a moment, Starscream tasted victory. If Megatron had fallen, then it truly was his duty to assume control and become the rightful leader of the Decepticon army. _Finally_ , he thought, the lust for power burning him from within. He almost gave into the sickly sweet sensation in his tank, but he stopped himself in time.

He was impulsive, easy to manipulate into action, yes, but not _stupid_. His optics darkened, and his fields crackled in suspicion. This could be one of the old mech's traps. Soundwave would never disobey Megatron, and being as loyal as he was, he'd tricked Starscream more than once into believing that the throne was his. It was all a lie, of course, and Megatron had always made sure to humiliate him in public to weaken his status. If this was one of those times, so help him Primus he would blow Megatron's helm off his shoulders!

Suspicion gave Starscream a bad taste in his mouth, but Soundwave just stood there, impassive as always. Starscream put his project down and cleaned his hands slowly, not even bothering to get up.

”And exactly _what_ do you want me to do about it, Soundwave? Assume command? Take over? Shout that I'm your leader? I could, but-”

”Megatron: _alive_.”

”You would know,” Starscream sneered. ”Again – what do you want me to do? Go look for him?”

”Assumption: correct.”

Venom dripped from his vocals as Starscream spoke: ”Go find him yourself.” He tilted his helm, and a wicked smirk pulled at his lips. ”Although... If the Autobots don't find him first, I might just take your advice. I'm still the fastest flyer, so I'd reach him before anybot else. I could slag him for you, Soundwave. How does that sound?”

Soundwave's fist crushed Starscream's project with a sickening crunch and he thrust his face close to Starscream's. Starscream's hand moved faster than light to tighten around Soundwave's neck, but the glitch had a blaster aimed at his chassis.

”Soundwave: loyal. Megatron is lost. Starscream: second in command. _Find him_.”

No games this time.

They glared at each other for a while, intakes loud in the eerie silence. Starscream's processor raced, his hand all but ripping Soundwave's neck-cabling out. The visor couldn't hide the mech's optics, not this close, and they burned with suppressed rage. Starscream gritted his denta and refused to acknowledge the heat pressed against his cockpit. He was sure Soundwave would love to blow his spark into nothing over Megatron, but the feeling was mutual, wasn't it?

It was a draw, as always, between them. Soundwave belonged to Megatron, because it was the most logical option. The day Megatron became a hindrance, then loyalty would be given to the strongest Decepticon around, and Starscream would make sure there was no bot else but him around to fill those peds. Both knew that without Soundwave by his side, Starscream would have a hard time convincing the troops to follow him, and then the army would fall to pieces. There was more than one power-hungry mech in the ranks, but none fit for leadership. Worse still, no Decepticon would accept his claim to the throne unless a dire situation arose.

Starscream needed Soundwave, politics made it so, and the slagger knew it. The telepath had always been able to manipulate him, and did a splendid job using facts against him. Starscream would have admired him if he wasn't so loyal to Megatron. He growled and tilted his helm, Soundwave's intakes tickling his sensitive lip-plating in such an inviting way. He forced himself to remain still, even though he deserved release after a well-fought victory...

”Starscream: distracted.”

Glitch.

” _Fine_ ,” he growled, gripping Soundwave's neck harder. ”Let's find the old fool, and get back to the usual state of business, shall we?”

Soundwave's weapon poked him again, and behind the visor his optics were amused. Starscream released him, brushing the broken gadget out of his way as he stood up to face his rival. They stared at each-other for a klik. Starscream sneered viciously, never one to back down. They were, even now, fighting for dominance. A game Soundwave usually won by having Megatron's approval on his side. For that alone, Starscream would make him howl later on.

The telepath nodded crisply and turned around, never once explaining himself, but Starscream already knew what he wanted. Starscream would follow... until he had the upper hand. He gave the broken toy of mass-destruction one last glance, and then stomped out of the room he'd claimed as his own.

*~*~*

Following Soundwave through the base, Starscream's thoughts circled around Megatron. It had been such an obvious victory, and even though Starscream didn't agree with Megatron's reckless tactics, the fool _had_ brought them victory. Megatron liked to show off, and if he was right, and Starscream wrong, he would humiliate Starscream in front of the troops. The slagger did so every Primus-forsaken time Starscream was at fault. The old fool wouldn't simply wander off like that and miss another opportunity, would he now?

 _Unless_...

Unless he'd been challenged by the Prime.

Starscream's good mood return immediately. Perhaps the Prime had finally offlined him and dropped his shell in a pit somewhere? It wouldn't be the first time the Autobot leader was useful, after all. His thoughts entertained him all the way to the briefing room, where he joined Soundwave by the large table. Judging by the telepath's quiet growl as he passed, he'd been thinking loudly. Well, too slagging bad. The only _good_ Megatron in his life was a dead Megatron, or one that gave his power up, submitting to Starscream's superiority. As _all_ good little mechs should do.

Soundwave ignored the mocking jibe and busied himself with summoning the highest ranking officers to the briefing room. Every single bot appeared within a few kliks, and the silence was heavy as they arrived. Starscream leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, wings high and broad. He watched the officers closely, his optics narrowing. He could taste the tension in the air, and it rose with each arrival. He smirked when Soundwave asked everybot to sit, and took his usual seat, not even glancing at Megatron's broad chair.

...And there it was, palpable, _sharp_ – the expectation of a change in the chain of command. A shudder of excitement ran all the way from the tips of Starscream's wings to his backstruts, and he responded to the assmebled bots' insecurity with a sweet smile, his wings hiked up. The others had come prepared for quite a pissing contest, arranging themselves in cliques around the rectangular table. Starscream didn't bother to hide his amusent; Megatron's death hadn't been comfirmed, but the Decepticon cause demanded a leader. Everyone knew Starscream's claim was the strongest – he was Megatron's right hand, after all.

His smirk grew arrogant as the thought tempted him. And why should he hide it? It was his _right_ , and everyone should bow before him. Some, however, should kneel. The thought of Soundwave kneeling before him entertained him for a full klik before he felt a light pressure, an alien touch, to his processor. He lifted his head and glanced in Soundwave's direction, keeping his face blank. The telepath scanned him again, and Starscream growled a warning under his breath. His hands curled into fists, and he gave the loyal glitch a knowing glare.

The day he made his claim he would make sure to claim Soundwave as well. He wanted that loyalty for his own, and would beat Megatron out of Soundwave's systems if he had to. The mech was a walking trophy, the perfect servant and assassin both.

As Soundwave closed the door behind the last mech to walk though it, he regarded Starscream coolly. The pressure grew painful, but Starscream reenforced his shields, _pushed_ , and kept pushing until the telepath was forced out of his mind. Oh, whas that a little stumble? Yes, it was, but only a mech who spent a lot of time studying Soundwave would take notice of it. Starscream did, and his spark leapt in glee. This was a rare victory, one he would savour for a long time.

Soundwave took command of the meeting immediately, allowing Starscream to unnerve everybot by inspecting his fingertips instead of proclaiming his new status. The buzz of comms filled the air, and he knew his lack of action was being discussed, and loudly. He played them all, looking the very picture of boredom. He was a crown-prince sorely tempted to claim his right, but he was no bot's fool. Megatron could be alive, and he wouldn't let himself to be beaten to scrap because of a rash decision. His time would come, no matter what Soundwave thought. He could afford to wait and see what the situation would bring.

And thus, he sat quietly as some kind of a plan was proposed, and never once demanded to be in control of the meeting. He even backed Soundwave up one time, which made the telepath twitch. A light touch brushed against his processor again, and Starscream offered Soundwave a slow smirk. _Let the games begin_ , he told the mech, and there, hidden behind that exquisite self-control, came the shudder he'd been waiting for. It was over fast, but Starscream had felt it, and it was enough, for now.

With Soundwave organising everything, Starscream could relax and indulge in his own curiousity. He ignored the questioning looks he got as he reached out and grabbed the pads his fellow Decepticons had delivered to Soundwave. He scrutinised the information, discarding one pad after the other until he found what he'd been searching for.

He slid deeper into his seat and frowned in deep concentration. There had been, as far as files went, seven mechs who'd been close enough to see Megatron leave. He frowned, thoughts racing as he analysed the feeds. He tuned the ongoing discussion out, deeply immersed in what he saw and read. The bots surrounding him could have started a war and he wouldn't have noticed it, because what he saw _made absolutely no sense_!

A pad showed Megatron fighting rough and nasty, as he always did. The Autobots fell when they met him, and dear Primus, but he was quite attractive like that... Starscream made a face, none too gently shoving the traitorous thought out of his processor. He knew Megatron would never stay away from his troops unless challenged, but there had been no such thing. With the Prime in that spark-forsaken ship, safe from murdering 'Cons and all that fanatical slag the Autobots garbled - what _else_ could have made him leave?

No bot knew what had happened. Seven grunts saw him move towards a trail, but no bot recorded anything beyond that, and Megatron was still gone. Starscream didn't need his genius processor to point out the obvious: with Megatron gone, a vacuum grew in the midst of the army. There were many who would see themselves in higher positions, and even though Starscream enjoyed the vicious power-play, he too preferred the stability a strong leader brought. _He_ was the rightful successor, of course, but unless they found the fool's rusting remains, Soundwave would thwart every move he made. The telepath had warned him often enough. Besides, if he made his move and Megatron was later found alive, Soundwave would surely inform him. Starscream knew the the punishment would be bad enough, but the public humiliation far worse.

He heard the officers debate, and nodded now and then. Some of them had a point – why had their leader left at all? If he was dead, wouldn't Soundwave have noticed it? Not bot had seen the Prime, all intel put him in the safety of the Autobot base. Starscream had to agree with Soundwave's answer; caution was preferred, and the troops didn't need any closer involvement. He hummed under his breath as his rival organised four search parties, and when asked for his opinion, he only repeated Soundwave's suggestions with a matter of fact tone.

Megatron was an usless leader, but he was the leader the Decepticons wanted. Starscream would stay in the background, at least for now. Plotting, of course, but that was hardly punishable. It was expected of him, and since it drove Megatron into fits, he would plot until the very day he was deactivated, and that day would _never_ come.

Proof, though. He needed it, and the feeds were giving him nothing. He put the last pad down, sneering in annoyance. If the glitch wasn't dead, and if the Autobots hadn't taken him as their prisoner, what had happened? If he'd been killed Soundwave would have told him, and if the telepath feared they would find his empty shell he surely wouldn't have demanded Starscream to find the old fool. The intel was of no help whatsoever, and only added more questions to the mystery. He bit his glossa until he tasted energon. How could he claim his rightful place as a leader if he didn't have the proof of Megatron's downfall?

His mood couldn't get any worse by the time Soundwave sent everybot off and away, all carrying out their duties as usual. Pretending everything was all right, because the troops didn't need their morale lowered. Starscream crossed his arms as Soundwave turned to him, regarding him with too much familiarity in what little could be seen of his face. Starscream knew the other wanted some kind of reassurance, and he waved him off with a withering glare and a nod – yes, he _would_ wait for Megatron's favourite idiot and his wingmate. Once they came, they would go off and find his precious _master_.

The elite of seeker-hood was nothing more than pets, and it sickened him. When he was leader, he would make sure more seekers found their way to the army, and things would change. Oh, yes, they would. With Megatron gone, many things would change. Now, if he could only find another lead, something, anything...

”Starscream?”

Of all the slaggers in the base, it had to be Thundercracker to approach him. Starscream looked up from the infuriating pads and saw how Thundercracker's lips curled into a ghost of a smile. Starscream's optics narrowed. There was little love between him and the blue seeker, but at least it wasn't Megatron's pet, Skywarp. He put the pads down, expecting pretty much everything his processor could imagine. This was a seeker, after all, and one Starscream didn't trust.

”What?”

”The search-teams are awaiting your orders. Soundwave sent me,” Thundercracker offered, vocals bored and dry.

Starscream nodded slowly. Of course he would. Starscream might not be leader, but he was the old mech's second in command. Soundwave wouldn't let the teams go until Starscream had seen them off. Well then, he would grant the telepath's wish. He gave Thundercracker another dark look and subspaced the pads, wanting no bot to have a look a them before he was done with them. He noticed Thundercracker's curious glance, but the seeker knew better than to ask and kept his silence.

They joined the others shortly, and Soundwave got his fill of ceremony. Starscream jumped, firing his thrusters once he'd barked his orders, and let the four seekers he'd picked out come to him.

”Keep up,” he warned, transforming even as he spoke. ”This is a swift mission, and I will not tolerate anybot breaking formation. If I find you lacking, I will personally hand your aft to Soundwave. Believe me, mess this up, and he will pick you apart for spare-parts!”

With a shout he turned and he shot away, ignoring the others, searching for reasons of his own that had nothing to do with loyalty. One day he would crush the mech who dared to stand between him and glory, but that day had yet to come.

*~*~*

It wasn't a seeker who found Megatron.

Perhaps it was for the best, Starscream thought as he hurried towards the base, shaming every seeker as he left them to taste his afterburners. He smirked when he heard Skywarp's curses, and Thundercraker's lower grunts were like music to his audios. Skywarp could teleport, but wouldn't use his gift due to Starscream's earlier orders. He'd been sure to enforce them during their flight, and it didn't matter that the glitch could get there faster – if he broke formation or failed to keep up, Starscream would have him disciplined.

 _Sucks slag to be you_ , Starscream thought, pushing himself as hard as he could. His wings burned, and he laughed at how slow other seekers were. But, of course - _some_ seekers were made to eat the dust of their superiors. It was widely known that Starscream didn't like being bested by other seekers, specially not by those sickly loyal to Megatron.

They'd met up as soon as Soundwave had informed Starscream about Megatron being found, and Starscream had cursed the sky. He'd hoped to be the one to find him, the one to finally get rid of him, the one to... _No_ , he warned himself. _Do not go there_.

It was hard to force his processor into the right direction, but Starscream could beat anybot at being stubborn, himself included. He pushed the memories that had haunted him for more time than he cared to remember deeper into his conciousness. He accelerated to the protests of the others, disappearing from their sight. A part of him fought to sink into the sweet memory of Megatron, disarmed and spread out for him. Megatron, asking for his touch. Megatron, optics wide and vulnerable, giving himself over....

 _No_!

There was no such thing. _There had never been such a thing!_ It had been a test, and one he'd failed. It was partly his own fault, but Megatron had turned to him, had used him, and when Starscream had failed to give him what he'd hoped for, their encounter had turned into a nightmare. Megatron had used his failure as an excuse to beat him until he was all but scrap-metal, something he'd continued doing through the years. The old fool knew what Starscream wanted, what Starscream craved, and had the gall to humiliate him for it! His leader used his very nature against him, and still did. _So why_ , he asked the darkening heavens, _why do I still desire him?_

He could have anybot he wanted. Slag it! He _had_ every bot he wanted, and were plenty mechs in the base who would lick his thrusters if he so wished. He had his rough fun with Soundwave, had that... thing... with the Autobot whose name he'd rather choke upon than speak out loud, but all it did was take the edge off his need. It was a defeat of sorts, knowing that all he wanted was Megatron. Curse him for being the one submission Starscream would die for, for being the one victory he needed more than the fuel that kept him airborne!

It still haunted him, his greed and lack of self-control. He had been too rash, had been unprepared for the responsibility. He'd gone too far, and it came back to him every time they fought. Knowing he'd failed hurt him far more than Megatron's fists did, because no matter how severe the pain, they still couldn't erase Megatron's whimpers in the back of his mind.

The mindgames and their violent confrontations came as a result of that disaster. Over the time it had become an obsession, one that Megatron loathed and tried to beat out of Starscream, and what else could Starscream do but retaliate? Megatron wanted to erase the memory of their first, and last, tryst, with every inch of brutality he could muster. And every time Starscream tried to prove himself, the old fool would beat him down and keep him there. Had Megatron been another mech he would have been dead by now, but that wasn't what Starscream truly wanted. What he wanted seemed impossible, but Starscream had never let such odds get the upper hand. He would either succeed and prove he was worthy of Megatron's submission, or kill him and take command of the army.

Starscream growled and shredded the clouds in his way, frustration making his wings painfully tense. Killing Megatron would perhaps prove that he was the very best, but he already knew that! It would give him a short, if intense, satisfaction, and then what? Oh, _sure_. The army would grovel at his peds and kiss his thrusters, but such a triumph would be bleak... it wouldn't be enough. It would never be enough, because Megatron wouldn't be there to see his glory and might, because he wouldn't be around to feel how it hurt to fall from grace.

He screamed in frustration. Killing Megatron would only be the next best thing, and Starscream had never settled for anything but the best. The best meant keeping Megatron alive after having relieved him of his position. It was unfair, no matter how he looked at it. Unfair, because Megatron would never accept his mastery. Unfair, because Soundwave would never plot with him to overthrow their leader. _Unfair_ , because besting Megatron meant Megatron would force him to kill him, which would render his victory meaningless.

The wind and gravity pulled at him as he hurled himself forward, flying faster than he'd ever done before. His spark filled with anguish and anger both. He wanted... no. Not wanted, _needed_ , to show Megatron how it was to know you'd been sparked to lead, and then be forced into another position. The old fool needed to feel how it hurt to be kept from what you were meant to be, from what you truly were!

He slowed down when his HUD got through to him. He was left trembling, exhausted by the emotional outburst. His wings burnt, their joints weak. He was fatigued, worn out, jaded. He felt broken, his intakes a sobbing mess. He'd left the others behind, and with no audience he could afford to feel and look weak. They wouldn't join him for several kliks, and he sighed, spiralling downwards in a slow circle.

He'd been so sure that killing Megatron was the answer, but not anymore. The search, the flight itself, had cleared his processor for him. Unexpected things had been revealed, and he realised that this was a point of no return for him. He could go on like this, or he could accept the emotion that had been the reason behind his constant plotting. Revenge was the easier path, truly, but ever since they'd crashed in this Pit-forsaken dustball, things had gone awry between them. Their relationship, tense at best, had grown toxic. Starscream suspected it was the Earth itself, or the Prime's proximity. Perhaps the disgusting organics released something into the atmosphere that made Megatron glitch more than usual.

Whatever it was, it had made Megatron unstable, and whilst Starscream was a Decepticon through and through he wasn't about to become his leader's punchbag. He could deal with the beatings when Megatron lost his temper, but to be the very reason Megatron glitched? No... no, he wouldn't allow that to happen. Not if he wanted to achieve the impossible: to get the great warlord on his knees, begging Starscream to touch him, to give him release.

He would have to prove himself, somehow, and beat Megatron at his own game, punching some sense into him if necessary. This without getting his helm blown off. He'd learnt his lesson; what Megatron had wanted all those years ago, he'd simply lacked experience for. His anger at being cut off, at being beaten because he'd hurt Megatron had turned poisonous, and it had driven Megatron further away. His threat of telling everybot the things Megatron wanted had made the mech hateful, had left him ashamed for what he desired. So, if he wanted to win Megatron's trust, he needed to plan, plot, and keep Soundwave out of it. If the telepath noticed his change of spark, he would go straight to Megatron, and Megatron would punish Starscream. Again.

Megatron's submission was an obsession of his, one Starscream would indulge in and day dream about. Soundwave would surely try to pick his processor apart to see what he was up to, but Starscream had learnt over the years how to keep the telepath in check. He would keep him satisfied and out of the way, his own mind locked unless forced open. Soundwave could draw his thoughts out of his mind, but not without a direct order from Megatron, and not without Starscream giving him a fight-

Behind him, the sound of incoming jets pulled him out of his musings, and made him aware of how he'd been circling over their hidden base for some time now. He cursed in disgust and dived straight into the ocean, ignoring Skywarp's comm. All he could think of was how Soundwave would be preening behind that stupid mask of his. Insufferable glitch! Every Cybertronian knew that seekers were built to hunt things down, but Soundwave could find anybot just like that. And now he'd managed to pin-point their missing leader's aft, directing a bunch of grounders toward him.

He concentrated upon the anger, drawing strength from it. Soundwave had found Megatron, others had taken him home, but only Starscream had been allowed to see Megatron's true nature, and somehow that soothed his jealous spark.

*~*~*

Starscream moved through the base in a dream-like state. His frame ached, but he wasn't paying it any attention. He pointedly ignored how his system requested fuel, and didn't bother doing anything about the water dripping from his armour. Megatron was to blame for it. Megatron, who'd been found in the middle of no man's land. Megatron, who hadn't addressed his troops, but had asked to speak to Soundwave. Starscream didn't know what irritated him the most – the water that made dust stick to his finnish, or Megatron's lack of etiquette.

He berated himself for not having been there when Megatron was brought in. He'd missed an excellent opportunity to question Megatron's intelligence, but what made him seethe was how their glorious leader had demanded to be taken to the medbay, at _once_.

Why, Starscream wondered. What had made Megatron leave the battle-field, and come back without Hook announcing his return to everybot? Starscream growled under his breath. He wanted to know what had happened out there. He wanted his answers, and also to punch Megatron in the face for being such a fool. If that got him a reaction, punch him twice. Slag it, the way his armour itched, he would do anything to rub fool the wrong way. As long as it forced Megatron to acknowledge Starscream's being there, _in his face_.

There were a few medbays in the base, and Megatron had been taken to the secured and officer-only one. As Starscream directed his steps towards it, the air seemed to buzz with activity. He shook his helm. Gossip, most likely, and nothing he woud bother to listen in upon. His mood got worse with each step he took, wings twitching, mirroring his emotions. He met others along the way, all asking questions, expecting answers he didn't have. He was their SIC, and so they turned to him in distress. Starscream felt cornered, out of his element, and surely he was the wrong mech for this! Suddenly made responsible for morale, he all but fled.

Taking the shortest route, he arrived in time to see Soundwave enter the medbay. He frowned, hurrying his steps, but was suddenly cut off and forced to stop. Three constructicons were in his way, all talking at once, hands raised, firmly restraining him. Starscream hissed, the anticipation he'd felt in his spark becoming something else interely, coiling tightly, all dark and entangled. Hook was closest, sneering at him. He tried to get away, but somebot was grabbing his shoulder, pulling him away from the doors. Starscream snarled, not understanding why they had stopped him at all. He solved the matter with his usual response, kicking the mech out of his way, and literally punching his way through until he was left alone.

Hook hissed, rubbing his faceplates where Starscream had struck him, and Starscream flared his wings at the mech. What the _slag_ was this all about?! Not wanting to be restrained, he wasted no time and turned before they mobbed him again. Wings high and broad, a blatant warning to every bot in sight, he pushed his palm against the panel. By the time the doors opened, he was more than just tense. Why had they stopped him? How dare they?

He was their officer!

Stepping through, he found himself growling, his mood foul. It was partly wounded pride; seekers were the best scouts, and here a search-party of grounders had the gall to find Megatron first. And then, there was Hook's behavior to ponder upon. He would deal with that later, and come down hard on the insolence. He put the Constructicons out of his processor, drew a deep intake, and lifted his optics.

The first thing he saw was Megatron. He was horribly dirty, but seemingly awake. He was lying on a berth, staring blindly at the roof, hands fisted. He must have noticed Starscream, but didn't react to his proximity. Didn't yell at him either, which was a new one. Starscream tilted his helm and pursed his lips, then moved closer to him, carefully keeping his distance, just in case. Still no reaction. None whatsoever.

A loud hiss made Starscream's wings twitch in surprise, and he looked over his shoulder. Hook entered, looking uncomfortable and out of place. They locked optics, and Starscream had the fleeting thought of being held in the dark, but the Constructicon didn't give anything away, and moved in a wide circle around him to avoid being caught and manhandled.

Starscream crossed his arms, quietly seething. The silence in the room was depressing, not what he'd expected at all, and it made his wings tense up. He scowled at Hook, on the verge of exploding into action and grabbing him, but the mech's strange behavior stopped him. Hook was a lot of things, but humble he was _not_. And yet he moved slowly, approaching their Lord with visible caution, as if Megatron were a wounded beast in need of calming.

If Megatron noticed any of it, he didn't show it.

Hook hovered closer, every step slow and measured, his fingers tapping at the pad he'd subspaced along the way. Starscream had never known their makeeshift medic to be a gentle mech, but he could have fooled everybot. Megatron moved his helm to the side when Hook was within an arm's reach, and the bot stopped in the middle of a step. Megatron's optics stayed unfocused. Hook grabbed a seat nearby and waited. When no other reaction came, he sat down and worked with whatever readings he was getting from that pad. He was, Starscream realised, making a huge deal about making sure Megatron could see his every move.

 _Huh_.

His first guess was trigger-happy Autobots, or some secret mission gone horribly wrong. Probably both. Megatron looked like slag on a good day, never one caring for his own appearance, which Starscream highly disapproved of. He looked closer, noticing the small signs of battle. Yes, it certainly looked like Megatron had been a bit too intimate with somebot's blaster. He'd probably run into an ambush, got punched into stasis and left for dead. Stupid mech, running off without backup like an inexperienced soldier. Starscream sneered; when _he_ was leader, he would make sure to have others running into traps for him.

Case closed, he discarded the unease he'd felt at Megatron's behaviour and mentally prepared a lecture regarding what was expected of a lord. Megatron's lack of vanity was improper and needed to be corrected. There _were_ standards to be kept, after all. Giving Megatron another glance, however, he decided to wait with it. Now was not the right time.

Instead, he turned and looked for the fourth mech in the medic bay. Soundwave would be skulking in the shadows, watching Megatron's back now that he was an easy target. Starscream kept his mind closed off, letting nothing through. The shield couldn't keep Soundwave out of his processor, not really, and that irritated Starscream. Soundwave knew how he felt, and used it frequently to throw him out of balance. The way he could get in under Starscream's radar was uncanny, and it was this very ability that Megatron favoured him for. It made Starscream stumble, took the edges of whatever attack he planned. Made him look _stupid_. As a minion, Soudwave was priceless. As an enemy, he was lethal. Starscream grudgingly admired him, but that was something private, buried beneath countless years of contempt and jealousy.

_Where are you?_

A gleam of light flashed in the back of the medbay, and Starscream turned his helm to get a better view. It was a big room, not fully lit, but there he was, standing by the large window, looking at the native wildlife. Once again, Starscream was reminded of how strange the whole situation was, and his interest flared to life, and he was was half tempted to go and shake some answers out of Soundwave.

Under normal circumstances, Soundwave would have been standing by Megatron's side, reporting in that boring vocoder of his. Now he was keeping his distance, giving Megatron his back in such a casual way that it struck Starscream as not only suspicious, but wrong as well. His optics narrowed. He would deal with the Soundwave in a klik or two, but first things first.

Megatron _still_ hadn't acknowledged his presence, kept ignoring him along with the rest of the world. That wasn't good enough for Starscream, who desired naught but his submission and downfall. He put his hands on his hips, pulled himself up to his full height, and assumed his most arrogant tone.

”So you decided to come back,” he drawled, arching an optic ridge. ”Couldn't stay away from my throne, Megatron?”

He was prepared for the attack that would come, battle-protocols ready, more or less on the verge of throwing himself out of the line of fire. He was wise to do so, because Megatron didn't take mockery lightly, and Starscream had been on the wrong side of his ire all too often. It didn't matter, never did – every reaction he forced out of the old fool was a victory, no matter how dangerous. Over the years their lethal dance had become something of a hobby to kill time with. And thus, he was prepared for everything but the slow, thoughtful glance Megatron gave him.

There was something uncanny about the way he studied Starscream, and the lack of emotion in his face made it all worse. No matter how hard Starscream tried, he couldn't pull his gaze away. The energon froze in his pipes, and the feeling of being trapped came to him, forcing his wings lower. He cursed himself for beeing affected at all, but Megatron's lack of violence had hit a nerve, and the old mech just kept staring at him!

Starscream bared his sharp denta, growling softly as he shook himself out of it. He rearranged his face into its usual sneer, feeling cheated somehow.

_New rules to an old game, Megatron?_

Being sized up like this made his wings itch, and he was pretty sure this wasn't how it was supposed to go. When confronting each other, they fought dirty, went savage. They didn't hold back, throwing brutal punches only, each ruthlessly trying to offline the other. _That_ he knew how to do. This, not so much, and it rubbed him the wrong way. He almost laughed at the irony of it. When didn't Megatron rub him the wrong way?

Still, the lack of threats and violence made Starscream feel out of control. It was a trap, surely, but he couldn't see how it would explode in his face. He curled his fingers around his hips, keeping his hands busy. He drew slow, deep intakes, and fought the impulse to attack the berth-ridden, Primus-forgotten mech. Megatron didn't seem to notice, and Starscream hissed.

 _Slag you_ , he thought. _You're not the only one who can change the rules, and if you do, then so shall I. Do your very worst, slagger..._

There was a soft rustle from behind him, but Starscream didn't bother to acknowledge Soundwave. The glitch had once again sneaked up on him. His wings hiked up, spread widely, and made him look bigger. He could feel the tension spread from his frame and out to the others. He took a step forward, denta bared, aggression bleeding into his HUD.

 _There_.

A flicker of emotion became visible in the otherwise impassive face; something dark and raw, vicious enough to cut deep, and wound. Starscream could have laughed – so the fool thought he was imune to the danger Starscream represented? To his deadly charms? He chuckled, so very pleased with himself, and closed in on his glorious leader one step at the time.

Megatron remained where he was, burying whatever Starscream had seen beneath layers upon layers of self-control. Starscream growled in annoyance, drawing Megatron's interest as his fingers cut dents into his hips. Silent and damaged he still cut a striking picture, but Starscream had seen it, the small crack in that impenetrable wall of his. But Megatron wasn't looking at _him_. No, his gaze had lowered to Starscream's hands. That was all the proof Starscream needed; under normal circumstances Megatron would never have taken his optics from Starscream's face, reading him so as to foresee an attack.

It was not only infuriating, but completely out of character for a mech who enjoyed punishing Starscream for any imagined insubordination as often as possible. There had been times he'd been out of line, times when he'd tried to kill his leader, too. Megatron liked having a score to settle, after all. Starscream's intakes stalled, and he looked down at Megatron's hands. They were big, stark black, so very strong. Made for killing, those hands that had beaten him into submission countless times. Hands that had once upon a time caressed him shyly, _begged him to fuck him hard_ , only to grab him and strike him down...

A jolt ran along Starscream's spinal struts. That was a memory he would rather do without, but it wouldn't stay buried. He swallowed hard, remembering Megatron's hands around his neck, choking him in anger and burning shame both. That moment had defined them, and everything they could have been had shattered that night. It hurt even now, no matter how long ago. As the ghostly sensation withdrew he was left confused, all angry.

Longing.

Starscream pushed the unwanted emotion out of his processor, buried it as deep as possible. There was no room for such things, and it was then, after one last look at Megatron's hands, that he noticed something he'd been oblivious of in previous moments – how Megatron was gripping and pulling at the sheets, shredding them to pieces.

His self-preservation kicked in, and he ceased his movements. He looked up, warily. Megatron watched him cooly, and Starscream counted ten beats before Megatron relaxed. Megatron's stare bore into him, and Starscream had the fleeting sensation of being weighed, judged and labelled. That, if anything, provoked the living pit out of him.

” _What?_ What is it?”

His vocals clawed at the silence, and he despised how he was made to lose control and sound like an undisciplined glitch. This wasn't how their tune went, nor how it was supposed to go, and who the frag did Megatron think he was, changing the rules of the game?!

Starscream wasn't about to accept that, and he curled his hands into fists, taking a daring step forward, snarling already. It was too easy, far too easy to lose his temper around the bigotted, Pit-forsaken virus-ridden son of a Quint. Starscream loathed him, wanted him broken, no - wanted to break him. Slag it, right now he just wanted to make him stop staring.

”Well?” he snarled, impatience written all over his face.

”I want a full report,” Megatron said eventually, ignoring Starscream's first question. Serenity didn't look good on Megatron, but Starscream hadn't spent ages studying his leader without learning a few things, had he now? Everything came down to the fool's disappearance, and what ever Megatron was hiding, he vowed to find out and use as it fit him.

”You never returned to base,” he began, keeping his ire under tight control. ”Soundwave organised a search, involving all the high ranking officers. My aerial strike team _didn't_ find you,” he added, hoping it would inspire one of Megatron's infamous monologues. Megatron wasn't bright enough to hold his glossa anyway, and as far as Starscream knew, the walking piece scrap-metal had yet to learn how to. He just needed to goad him, help him along, and surely he would be rewarded with a juicy little hint.

Starscream's fields rippled all the sudden, and he fought the instinct to turn as Soundwave made his presence known in a most inappropriate way. The telepath was standing right behind him, lazily brushing their fields together, the warmth from his frame tickling his wings. It was highly distracting, and Starscream had to force himself to hold still. He hated being manipulated like this, especially infront of Megatron, but Soundwave had made his point. Starscream wondered who the telepath was trying to fool, him or Megatron.

”No,” Megatron murmured, capturing Starscream's attention. ”I activated a distress beacon,” he continued, keeping his optics on the both of them. When Soundwave stepped forward to stand by Starscream's side, Megatron shifted slightly, and there it was again, a sign of... of something, written all over the old bot's faceplates. ”My _loyal_ Decepticons followed it and found me upon some unknown rock.”

”Perhaps you should have stayed there,” Starscream sneered, crossing his arms. ”We were doing just fine without you.”

Megatron didn't move a finger, and while his tone didn't change either, Starscream could hear the contempt in every spoken syllable. ”And I see you failed to ursup me while I was gone. Well done, Starscream. You have managed to impress me.”

Soundwave grabbed him just in time, holding Starscream back as he hurled himself forward, seeing nothing but the object of his hatred. He wanted to rip the fool apart, wanted to rip him in half! From the edge of his sight he saw Hook rise slowly from his seat, and he hissed, punching Soundwave square in the face. The telepath didn't even stumble, nor would he let go of him. Instead, he slid in between Starscream and Megatron, forcing Starscream to back down lest he wanted to lose an arm. Starscream snarled and slammed his palms against Soundwave's chestplates, cursing loudly.

He risked a quick glance at Megatron. The slagger hadn't moved, but he was watching them, optics set on their hands and faces. Starscream decided he wanted to rip somebot's helm off. How dare Soundwave come between him and his prey? How dare Megatron just lay there? That provoked him the most, and he shot Soundwave a dirty glare, flaring his wings in an angry warning.

”Move,” he hissed, but Soundwave refused to give in. Starscream aimed a null-ray at the telepath, frustration making his vocals break. ”I said _move_!”

”Intent,” came the soft-spoken reply hesitantly, ”highly unwise. Megatron... Unstable.”

Starscream shutterblinked, staring at Soundwave for a full nano-klik before the meaning of his fellow officer's word cut through the maddened state he was in. He lowered his arm slowly, optics narrow, pose suspicious. There was no great love between Megatron's officers, and the glitch preferred to keep them at each-other's throat anyway. Starscream understood the reason behind it, of course – one couldn't allow minions to gang up, but this was something else. This was _Soundwave_ warning him, and they had reached an understanding ages ago, when Megatron had been busy elsewhere.

”Go on,” he said, crossing his arms, keeping himself in check. He'd lost his patience already, but whatever Soundwave was about to say could make him change his processor.

When Soundwave hesitated, Hook walked forward, holding the pad like a shield between his frame and Starscream. He was right to do so, since Starscream hadn't forgotten his earlier mistake of trying to keep him out of the room. The makeshift medic looked between them, then dared a look at Megatron. Their lord had turned his helm away.

”There's some internal damage,” Hook said, his vocals set to a rough whisper. ”He needs some rest, some re-adjusting of linings, that's all.”

Well, now. Starscream tilted his helm, biting his lower lip in annoyance. ”That's all? Some re-adjusting of linings? Internal linings? Slag it, Hook. The old glitch has got it worse from me before, and I've never seen him go straight to you.”

Hook gave him a withering glare. ”We are talking about high-precision mechanics, Starscream. Unless you think there's another bot who could-”

” _Fine_ ,” Starscream growled, cutting him off. He turned to Soundwave. ”Unstable, you said? Does it mean I'm in command?”

”Negative. Starscream: _second_ in command.”

”Curse you, and your loyalty both! Have you seen him?” Starscream pointed behind himself, not even bothering to see if Megatron was paying any attention. ”He looks just about ready for the smelt! Can he lead an army like that?”

Soundwave looked beyond him, clearly studying their leader. He was quiet for the longest time, then spoke as quietly as the Constructicon had. ”Hook: capable of handling trauma. Soundwave: will assist. Starscream: _in the way_.”

Starscream's optics widened, and Hook stepped carefully away. Soundwave didn't back off, and Starscream knew he'd been dismissed, and artfully so. He refused to lose face again, and turned and stomped angrily towards the exit. Slag them all, and their precious leader as well! They thought they could handle the situation better?

Then they slagging would have to do so _without_ Starscream. He punched the panel, destroying and frying the cables as he did, and looked over his shoulder. Soundwave was looking at him, the constant presence of his telepathy like a heavy weight upon the back of his mind. Starscream growled loudly, heard the door protest and hiss as it opened. He gave Soundwave a slow, wicked smirk.

”You and I will talk later, when you are done here.”

It was a promise, a warning and an invitation both. Soundwave might have squirmed, but it was hard to tell at this distance. Starscream stepped over the threshold , and let the doors close behind him.

*~*~*

Starscream was sitting in the dark when Soundwave came to him. He came alone, as required. Starscream couldn't see him from the berthroom, but he knew the telepath was locking the doors to the chambers designated to him. They needed no surprises, and certainly no spectators. Starscream greeted him with a soft, sensous smirk as a few moments later he entered the berthroom.

”Is it done?”

Soundwave answered with a slow nod, and Starscream tilted his helm expectantly. Soundwave knew what he wanted, and let his visors and his mask fall back, exposing a finely drawn face that seldom saw the light of day. Starscream purred, and then spread his thighs in an inviting manner, pointing his toes. He was sitting on Soundwave's berth, stroking the sheets with lazy fingers. Soundwave's simple, elegant taste had been a pleasant surprise back when they'd first decided to solve their differences like this.

The mech had more depth than he gave away, and Starscream enjoyed the fruits of their agreement. While Soundwave awaited his command, Starscream spent a few moments admiring the cover's dark, rich colour and the heavy yet silky texture beneath his palms. He wondered how it would feel against his wings, completely ignoring the waiting mech.

It was all a part of their game, and the rules were to be followed. Here, between them, there was no pretence. It was the only way to work things out, to smooth the hard, sharp edges out, to make things work. It was how they dealt with the everyday tension that arose between them. Today, however, had been difficult for both of them.

Soundwave didn't move, and wouldn't move until Starscream told him to. Starscream felt a surge of pleasure pool in his tank. It wasn't a display of loyalty, more like hunger and need. He was no less affected, of course. Both had, within reach, what they craved, but it was Starscream who would decide when, and how. He sighed sweetly and leaned back on his hands, showing his frame off. He was a pretty mech, and he was desired, admired even, for his design. He arched and slid his interface panel open, purring as cold air hit sensitive areas.

”Repeat the rules,” he murmured softly, watching Soundwave's face with smouldering optics. The poor mech had never mastered to control his features, always hidden beneath visor and face-mask. All he didn't want others to see, Starscream could feast upon – need, hunger, lust, _obedience_. It made him wet.

”No... no vocoder,” Soundwave answered hesitantly, optics cast down. His vocals were hoarse, all rough in such a nice way. ”No cassettes. No battle-mask. No mind-reading.”

”That's right,” Starscream cooed, tracing a lazy finger up his thigh, and down his panel. Soundwave's optics dimmed, and his fields flared. Starscream purred. ”My turn.”

The telepath was paying rapt attention, and Starscream's smirk deepened, grew sharp. He played with his spike housing, enjoying how the pretty mech's faceplates coloured. ”No games,” he growled, teasing the seams of his interface array. ”No schemes. No holding back...”

His spike pressurised, and their optics locked. Starscream worried his lower lip, bit it until he could taste energon, heady and potent. He stroked himself, pumping his hips rhythmically. The scent of his desire spread through the room. He knew what it did to Soundwave, how deeply it affected him, and he watched him closely. The telepath's intakes came fast and shallow, and when Starscream reached his valve and stroked it, Soundwave fell to his knees with a sweet little moan.

Power tasted so _good_. Starscream purred loudly, spreading his valve for the other to see. ”And what is the last rule I am to follow?”

Soundwave shuttered his optics and whined softly, his helm hanging between his shoulders. He was balancing on the very edge, made speechless by all those emotions he couldn't hide. He was vulnerable like this, but it wasn't enough. Soundwave was so disciplined, so loyal and eager to please... If you were _Megatron_. But within these walls he showed another side of himself, one that Starscream could appreciate.

”Well?”

Starscream shook his helm as Soundwave failed to answer him. He scowled and sat up, wings tense. Soundwave was breaking the rules of their agreement, and Starscream had no use for him like this. The telepath seemed confused at first, but when when realisation dawned upon him, his large optics showed naught but regret. He drew a deep intake, and kneeled like a servant, or a slave, until his brow touched the floor. Starscream kept quiet, but his interest was aroused when Soundwave crossed his wrists behind his back. He nodded slowly. Aah, yes. _Much_ better.

As long as Soundwave remembered his place, so would Starscream. Balance restored, he relaxed and resumed the stroking of his spike. ”Again, Soundwave,” he said sharply. ”What is the last rule I am to follow?”

Starscream didn't have to give him the order – Soundwave was well-trained. He looked up, and gave Starscream what he wanted – a proper look of his face. Starscream growled contently. It was a gorgeous display of raw fear, lust and excitement that lit the Communications officer's optics. The poor mech trembled, and they hadn't even begun. When he spoke, it came as a whisper, and his fields crackled with restrained engergy.

”You are to show no mercy.”

”Absolutely no mercy,” Starscream purred, placated. He leaned back again, lazily stroking his spike, drawing the pleasure out. He gave the poor mech a little smirk, enjoying the way he wet his lips with the tip of his glossa. ”Tell me what it means.”

This time, Soundwave answered quickly, if somewhat breathless. ”That here, between these four walls, I'm yours to use.”

A jolt of excitement ran through Starscream's sensor net. Those words, the promise they brought, made his wings tingle. He hiked them up, spread them wide to make himself look bigger. Soundwave swallowed hard, hands still linked behind his back. When he noticed Starscream's predatory look, he arched his back prettily, but otherwise remained still. He would stay in that possition until Starscream gave him an order to move.

Starscream thrust into his hand, suddenly tempted to make himself come, and hard. It would be a nice punishment for Soundwave's crimes, both his breach of etiquette and for annoying the living Pit out of him earlier in the day. By denying him any tactile pleasure, he would also make sure to teach him a nice lesson. Soundwave spread his thighs wider, resting his faceplate against the floor, looking imploringly at him. Starscream growled, fucked his hand faster, and shuddered as it became harder to process.

Slag it.

He wanted the release along with what Soundwave had to offer. He spread his valve and hissed as cold air hit sensitive folds. It was a nice sensation, and he gave Soundwave an appreciative look-over. ”To me, Soundwave” he growled, fully expecting the telepath to crawl.

It never ceased to heat his systems to see how easily his rival accepted his dominance. Soundwave not only embraced it, but thrived in giving up. He would never agree with Starscream outside this room when it came to certain things. Neither would he hold back an attack if Starscream was threatening his precious leader, but this thing between them? It was their way of dealing with their differences, with the tension that came along, and it worked.

Soundwave moved just as gracefully as the cat he kept, and barely made any sound as he crawled closer. His face partly mirrored what Starscream felt: elation, need, hunger. As he moved, he made himself irresistible, his large optics wide, his aft raised high. Starscream enjoyed the sight of him, and his valve pulsed tightly. When Soundwave was kneeling infront of him, just about an arm's reach away, Starscream put his heel against the broad chest and stopped him.

”Not _yet_. I want to see what you've got for me, pet.”

Soundwave's hands trembled as he opened himself up, giving Starscream what he demanded. His spike was nicely thick, the head broad and blunt. Starscream had to resist the urge to grab it and fondle it. He knew Soundwave liked it rough, but he had other plans. He hummed under his breath, making a small circular movement with his hand, and Soundwave's intakes became soft pants. Another wave made him turn, kneeling still. Starscream leaned forward, a finger running over Soundwave's exposed valve. It was wet, all the folds glistering in the dimmed light.

”You've been a bad, bad bot lately, Soundwave.”

”Yes,” Soundwave groaned, pushing his aft into Starscream's hands. He didn't do more than that, but Starscream knew what he wanted and spread him open.

”I should discipline you,” Starscream said, his tone cold and uncaring, his grip possessive. ”Make you scream for me, _beg_ me...”

The mech trembled for him, his valve tightening as Starscream spread the outer folds gently. A single drop hung from the slick opening, and it was Starscream's turn to groan. His spike ached, and his vents kicked in. He captured the drop and lifted it to his lips, suckling his fingertip lewdly, purring at the sweet taste. He then slid the finger inside the tight valve, curling it and rubbing it against the soft, sensitive walls. Soundwave cried out, but otherwise remained still.

Starscream stroked himself faster, thinking of all the wicked things he could do with the willing mech before him. He saw it clear; Soundwave riding him, taking his spike and fingers. Soundwave on his four, faceplate pressed against the floor, sobbing, taking it in the aft. Soundwave, desperately begging him for release as Starscream fucked him, choked him...

Soundwave suddenly spread his thighs wider still and angled his aft, pressing back on Starscream's finger with a soft plea. He cut quite an irresistable picture, but Starscream shook his helm and withdrew his finger. He slapped the aft several times, hard.

”Are you reading me, Soundwave?”

Soundwave bit his arm for each slap, but didn't move away. He took it like a good little drone, crying out. Starscream's question made him lift his helm and look back, his face unguarded. He looked like the experienced warrior he was, but time had not touched his face, making him almost as pretty as Starscream himself. Starscream lifted his hand in a silent warning, and the telepath trembled in exquisite fear.

”Y-Yes... yes.”

”Then I suggest you stop,” Starscream growled. ”Or would you rather have me leave?”

Megatron couldn't have trained his favourite better, Starscream thought, as Soundwave cast his optics down. His pet shook his helm, and Starscream knew the telepath would control his gift better. It was a kind of bondage, one that excited Soundwave. It made him vulnerable for attacks, made him blind and deaf to less than noble intentions. Willing himself into keeping his part of the bargain put him in Starscream's hands, and both enjoyed that.

”Nega-”

Another slap, harder this time, denting the aft. ”Speak like a mech, not like a machine!”

Soundwave's helm hit the floor, and his hands scrabbled the floor. He cried out, but hurried to answer Starscream before he was dented again. ”No...! Please, don't leave,” he hurried to say, panting loudly. ”I will restrict myself.”

”Tell me you are sorry,” Starscream purred, viciously playing with his valve, rubbing the outer node hard and good. ”Make me believe you are sorry.”

Pleasure and pain, artfully combined, made Soundwave come to him, made him needy and hungry for whatever Starscream had to offer. They had played this game before, and Soundwave always came back for more. So did Starscream, of course, but that was a whole other matter. He wanted the power, not to be in the receiving end. As for Soundwave... Being forced to endure the sting, made blind and exposed like this, seemed to be exactly what Soundwave needed after a long, hard week at the office.

”Please forgive me,” Soundwave whispered, once again crossing his wrists behind his back. ”I won't step out of line again. Please... Please punish me as hard it pleases you. I... I will be good, master.”

 _Master_.

Starscream cursed under his breath, and with one light pinch to Soundwave's little node, he pulled back. His silence could be taken for several things, but the telepath knew him well enough to know what to expect, and exactly how to appease him. He was a smart mech, all things considered, and Starscream was feeling playful. Therefore, when Soundwave turned, optics lit by desire, he spread his thighs enough to make room for him.

That was all the instructions Soundwave needed.

He was moaning within a nano-klik, holding the telepath's helm as he swallowed around him. Starscream undulated his hips and fucked Soundwave's mouth roughly, went deep and hard. Soundwave made wet little noises, and every time he tried to pull away to draw a shuddering intake Starscream only pressed him closer. Soundwave took his punishment well, and allowed Starscream to use him as the seeker saw it fit. He was not only choking upon the large spike, but overheating as well, since Starscream hadn't allowed him to divert his intakes. Any other mech would have been screaming for help through the comm. links, but this was what Soundwave wanted – to be made less than Megatron's favourite, to be taken, used, broken.

Starscream was happy to oblige, and hissed at the sight of that pretty mouth all full of spike. Soundwave looked up at him, his large optics dimmed, faceplates coloured by humiliation and passion both. Surely his systems were screeching due the punishment he was forced to endure, but the telepath was enjoying the heavy sensation it brought. He got clumsier with each in-stroke, and oral lubrication coated his face and neck. He moaned around the spike, shuddering as Starscream grunted and pulled him off it.

They looked at each-other, and Starscream slid his spike over Soundwave's lips, growling softly. Soundwave's hand stroked his thighs, kneaded with an eager shiver of his fields. Starscream knew they wouldn't last long this night, not with the current happenings. He grabbed the telepath's neck, filled his processor with the most lecherous thoughts of how to make him pay, and watched him closely. He projected each thought as loud as possibly, making them as rough, brutal even – his own faceplates grew tinted by these, but Soundwave kept his promise. Had he not, the poor slagger would have been coming already.

”Such a good little whore you are, Soundwave...”

The sound of his own vocals surprised him; he sounded mean, all too eager. A gleam of triumph flashed in Soundwave's optics. Starscream was no less affected by Soundwave's submission than Soundwave was of his dominance. Soundwave had a score to settle, wanted something from his as well. Heat was rolling off his frame in great waves, and Starscream could see, could hear, how his systems struggled with the lack of air. He was hot, wet with condensation, lubrication dripping down his thighs, pooling beneath him. Starscream fought not to squirm. When Soundwave bowed his back and hissed, desperate for air, he sighed sweetly.

”Breathe,” he murmured, stroking Soundwave's face gently. Soundwave whined and did as he was told, drawing one small, shuddering intake after the other until the tension bled out of his frame. Starscream smiled affectionately; such things they would do to each-other. He watched Soundwave turn his helm and lick his palm, nuzzling it like a good little pet. He nipped it softly, regarding Starscream with adoring optics.

Starscream pulled him closer, squeezing the vulnerable neck, forcing Soundwave to arch up. He leaned forward and licked the telepath's lips, not quite kissing him. ”I think you've learnt your lesson, Soundwave. Mmm... Do you want me to fuck you like the slut you are, now that you know your place?”

”Yes,” Soundwave moaned, hands sliding over the hard planes of Starscream's thighs. ”Fuck me, use me, make me scream...”

Starscream's wings flared, and his grip hardened. ”No mercy,” he groaned, and pushed Soundwave away. He moved deeper into the berth, sprawling on it, stroking himself. Soundwave was still kneeling on the floor, being the dutiful slave Starscream needed him to be. He arched his back and fingered himself to let the telepath see how slick he was. He looked at the ceiling, and then smirked at the seemingly invisible seams in it. They hadn't tried that one yet, had they...?

He sat down, hissing as his valve rubbed against the dark, rich fabric, and turned to his left. There, on the nightstand, behind a lamp, a small switch hid. It wasn't much to the world, perhaps, but it certainly made Soundwave squirm. He gave the telepath a knowing smirk, reached out, pressed it down. A low hiss was heard, and above Starscream, something much like a trapeze lowered. He looked up at it, enjoying the black, smooth metal, the ropes tightly wound to it, as it came down. On the floor, Soundwave's intakes hitched.

”Look at this little toy,” Starscream purred, toying with the slick rope, so much thicker than the others. ”I imagine it feels good to be tied up, clinging to it, taking it deep...”

His hands unwound the ropes and he held them, pulled hard, but the trapeze held, even when he pushed down with all his weight and strength. It didn't change, and barely made a sound. Starscream knew about it because Soundwave had told him, but he hadn't earned the right to use it yet. His optics went from the ropes in his hands to the mech on the floor. Soundwave was panting, his valve producing so much lubricant a pool had gathered beneath him. It was very tempting, the idea of tying the Communications officer to the trapeze and fucking the living Pit out of him.

Starscream let go of the ropes and lay down, curling a finger, beckoning Soundwave closer. He tugged lazily at his spike, positioned beneath the trapeze. He knew Soundwave would enjoy holding onto the ropes, no matter how he was spiked. A light caress made him look at his own peds, and there he was, all pretty and exquisitely turned on, kissing his way up Starscream's peds, thighs, spike. Soundwave nuzzled his valve, and rubbed his inner thighs, licked them clean of the tangy lubricant that coated them.

”May I...?”

”Mmm, yes,” Starscream sighed, hiked his knees up, and pressed his thighs to the sides. Soundwave wasted no time in going down on Starscream's valve, licking thickly, lapping while suckling the folds gently. Starscream moaned, and rubbed himself against that glossa. The pleasure it brought him was sweet and heady. He angled his hips and lifted his aft off the berth, gasping as Soundwave licked at the rim of his entrance. He willed himself not to come, but it got harder the longer Soundwave was allowed to go on. After a few kliks Starscream turned his helm and bit his hand, thighs trembling. Too close, so close...!

”Enough!”

Soundwave collapsed against him, panting loudly against Starscream's right thigh. His intakes were laboured, came in irregular patterns, and his face was a mess of lubricant, some of it his own. Starscream stroked his helm with trembling fingers, grateful for his own ability to remain in control even when pleasure pushed every thought out of his processor. Long time ago, Soundwave had sought him out because of it. The telepath knew where Starscream's desires lay, and had suggested a way to get even, to settle a score.

They weren't friends, far from it. Their rivalry was well-known. Starscream had it from a very reliable source that even the Autobots knew about it. Soundwave was far from weak – he chose to give up his control, and Starscream could appreciate that. Beyond these four walls they fought for control. Sometimes for Megatron's approval, most of the time for his wretched life. One day Starscream would be in command, and Soundwave would bow for him where others could see it happen. Until then, this would suffice.

Starscream grabbed Soundwave's shoulders, shifted, and pulled him on top of his feverish frame. He rubbed his spike against the telepath's wet valve, murmuring dirty little things into his audios. It went straight to Soundwave's valve. Starscream could feel it pulse against the tip of his spike. He grabbed the mech's aft and kneaded it roughly, enjoying the way it made Soundwave's intakes stall and hitch.

”Do you want me, Soundwave?”

”Yes. _Please_...”

”Good pet,” Starscream growled. ”Up then. Ride me, and hold yourself up with those ropes. Slide them around your wrists, mmm. Want to see you all tangled up and bound.”

If Soundwave was into anything kinky, it was bondage. Being bound was what made him come the hardest. There were times when there was nothing to work out between them, but the Communications officer would still make Starscream seethe, and demand his attention. It always worked wonders for the peace in the base, and yet no bot suspected them to be lovers. Those times Starscream bound Soundwave and fucked him until the slagger was begging him to go harder, faster and rougher. _Brutal_. Those times where the best, in Starcream's opinion.

Soundwave's face was a map of greedy lust, and he hurried to straddle him. Before sinking down on Starscream's spike he made sure to bind himself, get the ropes around his lower arms and wrists, and over the thicker rope of the trapeze. He pulled dutifully at the ropes, and undulated his hips as they held. Once done, he looked down at Starscream, optics dimmed. Starscream placed a hand upon his aft, sliding his spike back and forth. Soundwave couldn't take care of his own spike like this, but Starscream didn't mind doing it for him, and spent a few kliks rubbing it.

”So pretty,” he cooed. ”Look at you, all helpless... Anybot could take you like this, fuck you like the whore you are. Imagine how it would be, if the whole base saw you like this, taking it like a little drone. But you are a pleasure drone, aren't you? Made for being fucked, used and humiliated.”

The telepath's expression was one of pure bliss, and he nodded. It was a fantasy, something that would ever take place, but there was a sliver of real fear in Soundwave's face. It made Starscream's base coding respond, and he squeezed Soundwave's spike hard. ”Tell me what you are, Soundwave. I want to hear you say it.”

”Your w-whore,” Soundwave whispered, squirming in his grip. ”Your to fuck until I pass out, yours to punish and use as you want to. Your slav-aaah! Nn _nghh_...!”

Starscream smirked, the tip of his spike breaching Soundwave. He grabbed the telepath's hips and slammed him down, watching Soundwave struggle at the sudden intrusion. He snapped his hips, forcing the mech to take the whole of his spike. Soundwave shouted, pulling at the ropes, but got nowhere. ”You were saying?”

”Y- _Yours_...!”

That he was, and Starscream's optics flared. He arched into Soundwave, set a hard pace. He forced Soundwave to meet him halfway, selfishly using him, filling him until Soundwave's valve spasmed, and tightened. The telepath cried out with each in-stroke, his spike leaking generous amounts of transfluid, making a mess, but neither of them complained. Starscream fucked him deep, made it hurt, but it was the kind of pain Soundwave enjoyed, and Starscream couldn't deny him. Not when he was bound, stretched around his spike, riding him like a well-trained drone.

From there on, words didn't matter. Both chased the overload that would crumble Soundwave's last defense and hurl him into ecstasy. Starscream snarled at him, abused him verbally, called him things that under other circumstances would have got him shot in the face. Soundwave's response was beautiful – he silently begged for more, for a rougher treatment. His fields sparked and his optics shone too bright, but Starscream wasn't in a hurry, rubbing Soundwave's spike as he fucked him forcefully.

It was the pitch of Soundwave's cries that warned Starscream. He slid his hand around the telepath's throat. ”Are you close?”

Soundwave whined, his face bright pink, and Starscream knew he was on the verge of overheating again. He ground down on Starscream's spike and shuddered, pulling desperately at the ropes, keeping the overload back. He met Starscream's gaze, optics pleading, but that wasn't enough.

”Are,” Starscream hissed and slammed him down on his spike, ”you close?”

”Yes, f-frag, yes! Use me... f-fuck me, _break_ me!”

Such dirty words, coming from one of the most controlled mechs he knew, made Starscream's processor melt. His spike, all wet with their combined fluids, ached painfully. He arched into the telepath, fucking him in earnest. Here, tightly pressed against Soundwave, he could forget the abuse from the mech he wanted above everything else. He could ignore every single injustice brought against him by his own kin, could erase the existence of anything Autobot and the oaf he'd wrapped around his finger. Here, here and now, he could be the mech he'd been sparked to be. A leader, taking what belonged to him from a willing lover.

Soundwave's sobbing reached his audios, and Starscream swallowed hard. Oh, Primus, but he was beautiful. Struggling to breathe, pushed to his very limits, fucked and bound, Soundwave was a delirious dream come true. Almost too good to be real. Starscream groaned and slammed into the little valve, griding brutally deep. The telepath took the punishing pleasure and screamed his name in helpless wonder. Starscream's spark felt hot, burnt and expanded – Soundwave's submission was his doing, all of it. It belonged to him. Not even Megatron could claim such a victory, because Soundwave would never give himself over to a mech who wouldn't be able to control the both of them. The gift to inflict pain and pleasure, and yet stay in control, was rare.

Megatron _wasn't_ in control, and that was the very reason why he smashed everything in his way.

”Faster, pet” Starscream groaned, stroking Soundwave's spike. ”Make us come.”

He was so close he could taste the overload, and his vision blurred. He let go of Soundwave's neck and gripped the telepath's hips instead, keeping the processor-breaking overload at bay. Soundwave moaned like a wounded beast, and rode him hard enough to dent, but Starscream was beyond caring. He gritted his denta, gasping at the steadily increasing pressure around his spike. When the pulsing began, he bucked wildly. Soundwave's hitching sobs turned into wails, and he threw his helm back in bliss. He shuddered, keened, and came so hard he hurled Starscream over the edge along with him, his cries sharper and louder than his rival's low moan.

*~*~*

Afterwards he helped Soundwave out of the ropes. Soundwave wasn't aware of him, lost in his own world. He was shaking, and Starscream spoke softly, stroking his face and helm with utmost care. The telepath was at his most vulnerable now, and was swaying gently. He had nothing more to lose, nothing more to give, and his intakes came in quiet, broken sobs.

Starscream caught him before he fell and gathered him close. He didn't move for several moments, lending him strength. Soundwave was clinging to him, but there was no real strength in his hands, and he kept shuddering.

”Shhh,” Starscream whispered against his audio. ”It's all right. Come, lay down with me.”

Soundwave followed him blindly, weak like a newspark. The berth was rumpled, but Starscream had put the covers over the mess, and he lowered Soundwave gently onto the rich fabric. He then covered Soundwave, the excess heat from his sated frame keeping Soundwave warm and creating the sensation of being held by a loving mate. Above all else, it felt safe, and that was what Starscream needed to offer his trembling lover.

When the telepath's hands slid around him, Starscream turned and kissed him deeply. Soundwave responded, all slow and sweet, and Starscream felt a whisper of real fondness. That was more like it. He nuzzled the tired mech, playing with the idea of claiming Soundwave as his own, and trying, _really_ trying, to get over the mech who kept breaking his spark and frame in half. It was a nice dream, but a foolish one. Soundwave would never allow himself to be owned, not truly.

But Soundwave held onto him as if nothing else mattered, and it soothed the ache within Starscream's frayed spark. He sighed and relaxed against the telepath, giving him everything he could, gently grounding him. Soundwave stirred beneath him, and Starscream leant his brow against his shoulder. He then lowered his shields, opening his mind to the telepath in a show of trust. Soundwave nuzzled him, and then entered his mind, threading in as gently as Starscream held onto his weakened frame. Balance restored, they fell into recharge.

*~*~*

From the darkness of his office, Megatron stared at the screen. He saw it, over and over again, how Starscream had... had...

”Not him, Primus, _not him_...”

It couldn't be Starscream. He didn't, and never had, possessed such self-control, but he'd seen it, hadn't he? And now his hands were shaking, and he couldn't process. He shuddered and shuttered his optics, trying to erase what he'd seen. The remains of his cube lay around the desk, energon staining his pale frame.

”Starscream,” he whispered hoarsly.

With a pained grunt, he puched the screen over and over again, until there was nothing left.


	3. Under The Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath is a glitch, and below the ice things are about to get worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: PTSD. This is a story that deals with the aftermath of a rape. Please read the warnings. Triggering themes ahead.

Morning meetings had never been such a quiet, untroubled business before.  
  
Megatron was seated in the back of the room, watching his officers discuss daily matters regarding the base. All those small and, for him, insignificant matters he normally never cared to get involved in. Rations, tactics, and science projects he knew all about, but this, not so much. It was strangely pleasant, though, and quite intriguing. He held his silence, never interrupting the bots talking, no matter how interesting the topics. He wasn't here to socialise, but to keep an optic on the elite of Decepticon-hood, the strongest bots in his army.  
  
It was far better than rusting away in his chambers anyway.  
  
Everything was being handled in an efficient, smooth manner. It surprised him to see that not a single officer raised his vocals out of turn. They waited for their turn to speak, each taking and comparing notes in silence. This was a new experience for Megatron, and he marvelled over how calm everybot was. It struck him as a bit surreal, but then perhaps it was _him_ being the calm one for once that made the difference. Still, he couldn't remember a time when a meeting had been this peaceful, and it made him uncomfortable.  
  
The atmosphere was calm and untroubled. The current speaker sat down, and was replaced by another, and the rapt attention given to said officer was just as unsettling as the fact that nobot dared to look directly at Megatron. In the back of Megatron's processor a voice kept whispering how everybot knew about his disgrace, and how they could detect the change within him. He ignored the malevolent whispers, fought them when they forced their way into his processor, but he couldn't entirely shut them out.

The high-ranking officers all knew that something had happened, but the information had been made inaccessible. A source of agitation for everybot in the room, himself included. Secrets did not last long in the base, had never done. But Hook had sealed the evidence away, locked it from everybot but Megatron. He'd also said that rest was imperative, and that Megatron needed time to recover from the attack. Hook had dared to stand up to him when he said so, had been persistent about the matter. He'd never have done so if he thought Megatron would mend quickly. Soundwave had been less forceful, talking without his vocoder and telling Megatron that he was the cause, and that he was their leader. That he knew what was best for all of them.

What was best for all...  
  
What did that mean? That he couldn't lead since he'd been brought down and forced to kneel? That he should give command up until he was fit to lead? Megatron's intakes stalled and his hands tightened around the cube he was holding onto. He put it down harder than he'd intended, and the sound it made when it hit the table startled several bots, himself included.  
  
By his side, Soundwave shifted, and Megatron felt a soft pressure upon his mind. It was a gentle touch, not meant to provoke but to calm. Megatron pulled himself together. He concentrated upon his intakes until he trusted his hands not to shake again. He made sure to keep his thoughts on a leash, pretending serenity until his frame believed the lie and relaxed. His calm lasted all but a klik, and he could have screamed in frustration; his sudden outburst had attracted attention, and he was now being given speculative looks. He kept the foul need to hide under control, but the sensation of being crowded intruded upon his frayed systems. He knew he was close to panicking, and it was all he could do to keep the act up while in the back of his processor, the whispers mocked him.  
  
The meeting continued as if nothing was amiss, but Megatron was in the Pit. Shame clawed at his spark, made his tank churn. He was already struggling, and it hadn't even been a day. Surely everybot could see how he failed to stay in control? Surely they saw his hands shake? But his hands were perfectly still, and his fields were steady as always. Placid, even.  
  
 _It's all in your processor,_ he told himself, remembering all the times he'd been close to death in his long life. _You've suffered worse injuries at the hands of the Prime. You'll overcome this as well, because you have no other choice._  
  
Only Soundwave was aware of his troubled mind, and Soundwave was loyal enough to keep his silence. Megatron suppressed a tired sigh, and leaned back in his seat. He was concerned, truly, but he'd managed to escape his anguish this time. When Megatron summoned the remains of his self-control he found it frayed. It revolted him how weak-sparked he was, but there was nothing else to do, and he forced himself to listen to what was being discussed. He made a few notes, and was just pondering over how long his officers had been trying to repair the dining quarters' failing power-switch when another officer spoke up.  
  
Megatron looked up from his pad and froze.  
  
It was his hands, Megatron realised, and the way he moved them when he spoke, that made him react this way. His optics moved between the speaker's face and hands, gauging the strength of the bot in question. He swallowed, tightened the grip around his cube. This one was big enough, wasn't he? Big enough to throttle him to the ground and keep him there. To force him to submit, and then take him against his will. The mech's battle-mask could slide back and reveal a face that Megatron had never laid his optics on, and even though he knew who this was, a mech had ways to change his vocals.  
  
Dispassionate he might be, but Megatron knew his officer to be a brutal mech on all counts. He'd become famous in their ranks for being strong enough to crush a mech's helm in each hand, which he had in fact done on one occasion. He was a Decepticon through and through, just like the rest. Ruthless in war, unpredictable and dangerous. Strong enough to try his luck...  
  
Megatron frowned as it dawned on him – everybot in sight could be his... his... attacker. He refused to call it anything else, but the vicious whispers refused to listen, and called it _rape_. No, he snarled back. He'd been attacked, nothing else. It sickened him to think of himself as a victim, and no bot in this room knew he'd been made to surrender, to kneel and beg like a pleasure drone. If he was captured again, he would make sure to die, because he would never bow to anybot again. Given the option, he would rather offline himself. He had to believe this lie, or his fate would be sealed and he would be cast down from power by his own desires.  
  
”Are we done with this now? In that case, I've got a bone to pick with the one who thought the area behind the science-halls would be a good place to test projectiles.”  
  
The growl sent a jolt of interest down his spinal strut, and he found himself looking at Starscream. When had he started to sound like that? It was a deeper growl than his usual nasal vocals. Megatron was suddenly all too aware of the seeker's proximity, and it made him feel... strange. He kept his processor busy with other things than what he'd seen previous night, refusing to let it intimidate him. He would deal with Starscream later, when he wasn't so jittery.  
  
When Starscream was answered by a Stunticon, a short-lived discussion took place. Projectiles so close to unprocessed energon was bad, his second in command explained, his vocals hard, but civil enough. He sounded less annoyed than usual, seemed almost composed. Megatron's processor stalled at the unbidden thought, and when Starscream's optics swept over him, he felt like bolting out of the room. He had to cling to his self-control to stay where he was, and he wondered if it was visible, the way he reacted. It was probably the way Starscream held himself, how he looked this morning. The seeker was vain, had always been, and Megatron figured that would never change. Today, however, he outshone every mech in the room. Light travelled swiftly over the hard planes of his frame, and his wings were hiked high, proud and broad. He was...  
  
Too much, and far too dangerous to think of in such ways, Megatron firmly told himself.  
  
Starscream continued to chat with the Stunticon, but now and then his optics would travel back to Megatron. Megatron made sure to look elsewhere, and tried to ignore the fact that Starscream obviously was strong enough to make Soundwave yield, to make him beg. He'd destroyed the feeds, but what he'd seen had been burnt into his mind. Lovers... or rivals, it didn't matter. He'd just never even _thought_ of the possibility of a liason between his most trusted officer and the traitorous seeker. The way he'd made the telepath give up control made his armour heat up, and that was shocking enough to make him feel sick.  
  
When had Starscream acquired such authority? And how come Megatron had never noticed before? He had changed, and Soundwave had allowed him to do things Megatron never would have suggested of a lover. His most loyal officer had allowed himself to be used, and gladly. He'd begged for more, cried out when it just wasn't enough. He'd succumbed to things Megatron loathed himself for wanting, had entrusted himself to the last mech Megatron would have turned to.  
  
Why had he done it?  
  
Megatron lowered his helm, stared at the floor. He ought to leave, but couldn't make his limbs obey his command. His knuckles were still raw, scratched and dented from his loss of control. In his berthroom, what was left of the vizcreen had been disposed of, but there was glass everywhere, and it had cut into his hands when he'd tried to get rid of it. Another mark of yet another failure. Primus help him, but he was getting used to being marked.  
  
And what if Starscream was guilty? The thought sent a shiver down his spinal struts, and his valve tightened. It stung, still sore after the abuse. Starscream _,_ who he had completely ruled out, was the embodiment  of his worst fears. The very idea of the seeker being his attacker made his spark feel tight, and it burnt him from within. It was raw attraction he felt, all mingled with terror, and he despised himself for feeling anything beyond contempt. And if it wasn't Starscream, then there were plenty of mechs in the Decepticon army to suspect.  
  
A day ago, while molested by that unholy glossa, he'd thought no Decepticon would do such a thing, but very few mechs could best him among the Autobot ranks. Those who could pull it off, would have to be smart and strong enough, must have studied him...  
  
 _Slag, slag them all!  
_  
He needed to know, needed to dig the guilty mech's optics out with his own thumbs. In a way, he would prefer it to be Starscream, as in that case he would take pride in killing him. With Starscream revenge wouldn't be enough, because Starscream was the one mech who would gain so much more than pleasure in breaking him in. Starscream, if he ever got what he truly wanted, wouldn't just terminally remove Megatron from power, but would certainly gloat and keep him around. Alive. The seeker been lusting for power for aeons, and suddenly Megatron couldn't ignore the threat he had become. Especially not after last night.  
  
A final change in his list of suspects, and he put Starscream's designation on top. He would have to watch himself around the seeker, because he felt it, deep inside, that he would push himself into Starscream's hands. After what he'd seen, a terrible longing had awoken within him, and Starscream knew what he truly desired. He would use it against Megatron, just like he had done all these years. One fatal time, one misguided attempt at trusting the seeker, had been bad enough. He didn't need another. He suddenly felt like slag, too tired to do anything else but listen to Starscream's vocals. He shuttered his optics and _saw_ -  
  
 _Soundwave, crying out, begging. Writhing, pulling at his bonds, his face one of ecstasy, of wonder and unimaginable bliss. Pleasure, so strong, making his frame tense and come, so hard, so good and so so so wrong, but he came undone and Starscream took him harder, made him shriek and convulse, made him scream so loud-  
  
_ ”No,” he murmured, snapping out of the memory in time to see Soundwave stare at him. The telepath would never spy on him, but something must have slipped through his shields, and Megatron cursed himself for it. He made sure to banish the files, trying to push them deeper into his conciousness, where they would stay. Or so he hoped.  
  
The rest of the meeting went agonisingly slowly. All he wanted was to leave, but doing so would draw attention to him, and there would be questions. Perhaps not to his face, but rumours travelled fast in the base. Gossiping mechs weren't uncommon, and Megatron couldn't face being speculated about any more than necessary.  
  
He stopped paying attention after a while, and decided to do something useful instead. He had the topics his officers had brought up in his pad, and since Soundwave was writing everything down, he read the memos, the solutions to several problems and what they planned for his troops. Here were the important things he never cared about, the small cogs in the wheel that made everything turn. The great Decepticon machinery was founded upon these matters, and why he hadn't paid all these facts and details any attention before was almost...  
  
 _Foolish_.  
  
”Does our glorious leader have anything to say?”  
  
It took him a nano-klikk to realise that Starscream had spoken up, and was expecting him to either answer or lose face infront of everybot. He put the pad down and tilted his helm, carefully choosing his words. Whatever he said would be picked apart, analysed and brought up against him at another time. Starscream was famous for his backstabbing schemes, after all.  
  
”No,” he answered truthfully. When Starscream's face lit up in glee, he held a hand up, and spoke again. ”I think you have done well. I suggest, however, that you look closer at the guard duties and make a few changes. Combaticons are good brawlers, but they don't tend to mix well with the Stunticons. Perhaps a change in the routines would serve our purposes better, to keep things running smoothly.”  
  
It wasn't until Starscream's optics bore into him that Megatron saw his mistake. He'd given the seeker a compliment and Starscream found that suspicious. Primus, but his second in command saw plotting where there was no such a thing. Perhaps he should have told a lie, but it wasn't necessary – Starscream had done well, and he wasn't disappointed. The seeker gave him a short, crisp nod, and turned to discuss the matter with the involved team-leaders.  
  
After that, the meeting was closed, and Megatron saw fit to leave before he was cornered by Starscream or Soundwave. He wasn't up to any questioning, nor did he want to spend more time than necesary with either of them.  
  
He wasn't sure how to handle their... relationship. If there was such a thing, really. Soundwave had never struck him as a mech who'd want anything beyond appreciation, and even though many Decepticons and Autobots alike had thought Megatron and his most trusted officer to be lovers, they weren't. Soundwave had never brought the issue up, and Megatron had lost all interest in such things after Starscream. Should he be upset or angry over the discovery? Should  he say anything at all?  
  
Decepticons weren't, by nature, prone to trusting others. The combiner teams were another matter, and he knew that Skywarp liked adventures, but taking this as far as Soundwave and Starscream had done was unheard of. Or, he corrected himself, perhaps he had been blind to the obvious. He knew about liasons, he knew about secret meetings, but... but that wasn't what he'd seen last night. What he'd seen was almost alien, because those two hated each other!  
  
He rubbed his helm and slunk unseen into his chambers, his processor aching.  
  
*~*~*

It was Soundwave who approached him first. Megatron had seen it coming, but he hadn't expected the mech to take five full days. Perhaps he'd been _given_ five days, but Megatron knew better than to expect such treatment, even from Soundwave. There were limits, and whilst the mech was loyal to Megatron, he was more loyal to the cause. As long as Megatron served the cause, he would be loyal beyond questioning. If Megatron was showing signs of not being useful, however...  
  
”Requesting an audience.”  
  
Megatron turned to Soundwave, watched him carefully. Whatever came out of this would no doubt mean trouble. He felt a soft pressure and grimaced, jerking slightly back. He didn't have to say anything about the unwanted intimacy, it was clear enough in his face. The pressure dissolved into nothing, and he relaxed. The communications officer didn't comment on his behavior, and that was for the best. Megatron didn't want certain things out in the open, and as far as he knew, this room could be rigged. Caution was to be expected. He hoped Soundwave understood as much.  
  
”Granted,” he said, looking down at the pads he'd been reading.  
  
Soundwave sat down, and the table didn't feel large enough all of a sudden. Unbidden memories kept assaulting Megatron's processor, and he didn't know whether to feel ashamed or angry. He'd seen Soundwave's face, unguarded and joyous. It felt strange, as if he'd intruded upon something not meant for him. _Of course_ it hadn't been meant for him. What Soundwave did after having performed his duties wasnt for Megatron to have any opinions about.  
  
But why with _Starscream_ , though?  
  
”Hook: worried. Starscream: suspicious. Soundwave: _not amused_.”  
  
Ah. Something _had_ gotten through during that meeting, and this was Soundwave's way of informing him. Perhaps intruding upon his privacy wasn't enough to make Soundwave retaliate, but there was a certain sharpness to his vocals Megatron couldn't ignore. He'd never doubted Soundwave's loyalty, and the telepath was useful. He balanced Starscream out. He...  
  
He balanced Starscream out.  
 _  
_Megatron's optics widened and he cursed himself for not having noticed the obvious – they must have been interfacing all along, or at least for a very long time. He frowned, feeling foolish. Here he'd kept them at each other's throat for ages, and they handled their rivalry by becoming _lovers_? It had happened right under his radar, but how come nobot else had found out and warned him? He let out a soft hiss of an intake and bore his optics into Soundwave. _For how long_ , he wanted to ask, jealousy making his armour itch. He just couldn't tell who he was jealous of, and why. He'd never felt anything beyond a pleasant camaraderie for Soundwave, and yet...   
  
It felt like a betrayal, and one he hadn't seen coming.  
  
The kind of trust he'd observed a few nights ago wasn't an easy thing to achieve, not by far. It made him horribly aware of how unfortunate he had been. He knew his officers, though. They wouldn't have lowered their guard unless trust had been earned, even though that would have taken ages. He was actually impressed – years upon years of battles, and beneath the pretense of hate, passion. They always fought over him, Soundwave keeping him safe from the traitor, and the traitor keeping Soundwave on his toes. He shook his head in wonder. He'd seen them battling for dominance, had truly enjoyed their plotting, and he'd never understood that he'd been witnessing foreplay. It fragging _stung_.  
  
”Permission to speak freely,” Soundwave said, interrupting Megatron's thoughts.  
  
 _What could you possibly tell me_ , Megatron thought, furiously keeping his emotions under strict control. He didn't want to make an enemy of the one mech he could trust. This... thing, it wouldn't get between them. Starscream had never been his, not truly, and Soundwave wasn't a lowly servant. He was a strong mech, an officer who'd earnt every inch of respect he could draw from enemies and and peers both. Starscream was another matter, one that made him feel ridiculously uncomfortable. He couldn't dismiss Soundwave's request, but he almost didn't dare to give him permission either. He wasn't ready for this, not at all.  
  
”Granted,” he answered after a moment's doubt, holding onto the pad as if it could shield him from what was coming his way.  
  
Soundwave regarded him coolly, head slightly tilted. Megatron felt his armour shift and tense, a sense of dread settling in his tank. Soundwave's visor slid back, revealing his optics. Megatron was shocked to see the amount of emotion in them. He hadn't expected such a direct approach and there was no hiding now. He leaned back and away from his officer, wishing the table between tem were as wide as the ocean they lived in.  
  
”Lord Megatron,” Soundwave said, vocoder gone. ”You are not well.”  
  
”Of course I'm not well,” Megatron snapped, fingers denting the delicate pad. ”What did you expect?”  
  
His faceplates heated up once the words left his mouth. It was embarrassing how strongly he reacted when feeling cornered. He ought to rein himself in, but it was hard. The attack had left him unstable, and unable to control his emotions. Flashbacks tormented him, even when recharging. He couldn't stop the memories, couldn't block them out of his processor. No wonder Hook worried – the mech knew what was wrong with him, wanted to help him. It was the logical approach, but Megatron wasn't ready to let anybot in. Not when his spark wailed in distress, and his frame longed for things he hated.  
  
If Soundwave felt anything beyond pity over his outburst, he didn't show it. Hook said he wasn't dealing with what had happened, that he was hiding from it. Megatron had to agree. He _wasn't_ ready to face what had been done to him. It had been such an easy thing to ignore his confused feelings at first, keeping himself busy until he fell into recharge. He'd refused to meet up with Hook as the mech asked, no, _pleaded_ with him to come to the medbay some two days ago. He didn't understand what good it would do. The idea of allowing others into his processor sent panic through his frame. If they saw what had been done to him...   
  
He was _Megatron,_ for frag's sake! He would not be mocked, would not bare his spark for anybot to judge. If anybot could overcome this, it would be him. But the panic spread, and he gritted his denta, panting loudly. Primus help him, there had to be another way...    
  
”Your hands are shaking,” Soundwave observed softly. ”The pad has broken, and the glass is cutting into your palms, Lord Megatron.”  
  
Megatron stared at Soundwave in utter confusion. Soundwave pointed at his hands and he looked down. Glass covered his palms, cutting into his plating. He hissed and reconnected with the pain his frame had been trying to tell him about. He realised he was standing. When had he left his seat? Confusion turned into anguish, clawing deep. He shook his helm. How...?  
  
”I didn't notice,” he whispered, despair etched in his face. ”Why?”  
  
Soundwave moved and Megatron recoiled. His cannon powered up. It was the warrior in him, the one that had battled for aeons and had perfected the art of self-discipline, that stopped the command in time. He stared at Soundwave over the cannon's edge, gasping for breath. He'd almost killed the one bot he'd come to care about. He shook, swallowing hard. This was a breakdown, and it was killing him from within. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the crushing weight of it.  
  
”Lord Megatron...?”  
  
” _Slag_ him,” Megatron said, his vocals hoarse. ”Slag him into the Pit...! He did this to me,” he snarled, ”and I can't have it undone!” He willed his arm down, and slammed his palms onto the table, drawing the pain into himself. Pain had never hurt him before, not like this. It had never terrified him, had never made him lose it. He'd been compromised, and the attack seemed so much worse now than it had done earlier. ”I... I don't think I'm handling this very well,” he said, hoping the telepath could sense his apology.  
  
He hung his helm between his shoulders and tried to even his intakes out. It hurt to vent, hurt to move. Hurt to think. How did a bot survive the aftermath? He'd met a few victims of... of rape, but it laid in their past. They'd overcome it. Megatron didn't know what to expect and that was the worst of it, the not knowing. And why would he know? He lead an army of killers, but he'd never allowed such perversities under his rule. No bot was supposed to fall that deep, and if they abused somebot, it was swiftly dealt with. Death or banishment was they could choose between once found out. The victims were looked after, healed, and then released. In some cases they had to be put down, but only as an act of mercy.  
  
The prospect of having a rapist running loose in the base was a source of dread. It was said that once a bot crossed that specific line, a terrible hunger filled him and made him want more and more, until only hunger and darkness was left where there once had been a spark. Megatron had felt that hunger against his very frame, and he shuddered at how easy it had been to give into the crazed demands. Primus help him, but he could still feel the hands, the sting of the whip, the glossa...!  
  
”I will kill him,” he whispered, vocals filled with static. ”I will rip his spark out, and I will extinguish it while he looks at me. I...” He trembled, swayed. ”I just _can't..._ can'tstop feeling...”  
  
Soundwave hurried around the table. He reached out and steadied Megatron, held him up. Megatron stared at the mess on the surface of the table, distracted by the multiple colours the broken shards reflected. His fingers were cut, they stung, dripped. The energon stood out against the white table, stained it. He allowed the telepath to cradle his hands, and let himself be guided into his seat. He felt numb. Exhausted. All dead inside.  
  
”The memories won't go away,” Soundwave told him gently. ”They won't go away because you will it so. There is trauma, and you must allow us to look after you.” When Megatron shook his helm Soundwave knelt before him. ”Lord Megatron, there is no shame in treating a wound, no matter where or _how_ it was inflicted.”  
  
Megatron winced and shuttered his optics. Soundwave was telling the truth, so there was no point in arguing. He'd heard the same from Hook when he, day after day, asked him to come to the blasted medbay. What made him stay away was the treatment Hook intended to put him through. When the surgeon had told him about it, Megatron had brusquely cut him off, bruising Hook's ego in the process. It had made him feel sick. He couldn't let another bot have a look a this processor, not even to check his programming and base-coding. Not when the memory files where stuck on repeat. What if Hook saw his shame? What if Soundwave saw how he'd submitted, and how he'd overloaded even though he hadn't meant to? What if they noticed how he secretly had always wanted-  
  
”There is such a thing as consent,” Soundwave murmured, holding his hands. ”Submission is to be given, not taken. Trust is precious, but a body can be forced to overload. What you like in the berth is _not_ _relevant_ , and will never be. You were forced to submit. Never forget. What was done to you was wrong, my lord. There is no more to it.”  
  
Megatron's spark froze. He didn't dare to speak lest his shallow intakes would become sobs. He would never be able to face his officer again if he broke down like that. Soundwave wasn't violating his integrity – _he_ was projecting loudly. He just couldn't stop thinking. His thoughts returned to what he'd seen the other night. That, along with what he'd been forced to acknowledge about himself, and what his frame longed for...

It was too much, and Megatron clung to what was left of his sanity. Soundwave sat quietly on his knees, removing the shards that cut into Megatron's palms. He was careful, but it hurt anyway. Megatron sighed, watched him work as he tried to make up his mind. If he asked, would he get the answers he needed? Would Soundwave be insulted? Would he understand why Megatron needed to ask, to understand?  
  
”You... The other night? I _saw_ ,” he managed, hating how his vocals almost broke.  
  
”I thought so,” Soundwave replied, keeping his optics on Megatron's hands. ”Your mind is screaming, Lord Megatron, and even when you hold onto your shields, I can still sense the distress. There is no plot, no grand master plan to overthrow you. I would open my mind for you to prove myself, would let myself be subjected to Shockwave if I thought it would help.”  
  
He looked up, and Megatron shook his helm. Trust had never been an issue before, and yet it was all that mattered now. The red gaze bore into him, and Megatron remembered why Soundwave had come to him, his origins. Back then he'd been grateful for such a gifted mech to approach him. It wasn't until he'd gotten to know his officer better that he'd learnt about the things Soundwave hid for the rest of the world. They shared those things now. He'd wondered many times how it would be to be in Soundwave's pedes, and now he knew. Which was why he couldn't understand how Soundwave would let himself be taken like that.  
  
”Trust is everything, my Lord,” Soundwave murmured, sliding his mask back. He lifted Megatron's damaged hand to his lips and nuzzled it. He then kissed the wounded area tenderly, and his glossa cleaned the cuts with utmost care. The brush of his gift was just as gentle. _I will follow you, and you will always be my master. You are not broken, my lord, but you were wounded. It is killing you from within. Please let us help.  
  
_ The words stung, but Megatron could only nod. Soundwave didn't think him weak, didn't mock him. The mental caress had told him as much. He hissed when Soundwave held his other hand and cleaned it the same way. The telepath kissed it too, regarding him in silence.  
  
Megatron knew where they stood. The day he wasn't the leader Soundwave wanted, Soundwave would turn away from him. That would be the day Megatron deserved to be abandoned. Until that day Soundwave would be the closest thing to a friend he had. He tilted his helm, frowning slightly. He leaned forward and laid his hands on the telepath's faceplates, tilting his helm up. They locked optics and Megatron's spark pulsed. If he'd only felt more than fondness. If he'd been what Soundwave needed. If...  
  
”I would never say no,” Soundwave told him, nuzzling his aching palms. ”It would be an honour, my lord, but this is not what you need.”

Soundwave shifted slightly, and Megatron's optics widened. They were close enough to kiss, but his most loyal officer didn't make a move. Still, was that affection he saw? He couldn't say, but they had been closer than most before, and would no doubt be again. Perhaps, Megatron thought, in the future. In a future where his rapist was gone. Gone and forgotten, buried to rust. A future where he could recharge in peace, where his feverish nightmares had been banished from the depth of his consciousness.  
  
”Take me to our resident medic,” he said firmly, sounding far more calm than he felt. ”I might as well learn how to beat the one enemy I never expected to have: myself.”  
  
*~*~*  
  
Over the weeks that followed, Megatron was seldom seen alone.  
  
He found himself surrounded by Hook's team most of the time. The Constructicons were pleasant company, all of them eager to explain every grand plan they had for the base. They showed him the correct amount of respect, but he wasn't there to be in the way, and he made himself useful to them. He could carry a load just as well as they did, and since their home was in a constant need of repairs, he soon learnt every little corner of it. Engineering was their favourite topic, as he realised after only a couple of days. He didn't really mind, and let their voices keep the whispering in the back of his processor at bay.  
  
They took turns in showing him the changes in the infrastructure, explaining how everything worked. His questions were answered with enthusiasm and yet more lectures. He didn't mind listening. He was put to work as often as he was around, and he enjoyed the way they seemed to forget who he was when they were working. He was just another set of capable hands. He found that not only refreshing but quite flattering as well.  
  
Hook was around to keep an optic on him as he mended. They never spoke about it, but the surgeon read him carefully, and checked his systems regularly. Megatron had consented to it, of course. Soundwave had explained that if the trauma was allowed to sink even further into his systems, he might end up with a weakened spark. Megatron had no use for that. Hook had then mentioned that bots suffering from similar wounds sometimes succumbed to self-damage at their worst. Megatron had hissed and given Hook a medic's right, and full access, to override his programming. It had startled everybot involved, himself included, but he would be damned if he went down that road.  
  
There had been some talk about his sudden interest and involvement the Constructicons' area of expertise, but Megatron had skillfully deflected them by spending a lot of time investigating each team's assigned duties. Spending all that time with his troops gave him another kind of insight, one that Starscream had always pointed out as his biggest failure – how could he lead when he didn't pay attention to the details?  
  
The details were many, and Megatron saw the wisdom in his SIC's words. It was different, on the other side. The side that took the beatings when things went awry. There was a grudging respect between the teams, of course, but that was to be expected. Even the most insignificant bot had a place and a station, some small duty to perform. It fascinated Megatron to see how his officers managed to share the rations equally, and still save some of it up. Every single drop mattered. So did every team and soldier, be they scouts, wards or scavangers.  
  
”We are opening this area up,” Hook said, drawing his attention back to the screen. ”It hasn't been in use, and I'm thinking about letting the seekers claim it.”  
  
”Why the seekers?”  
  
”Because it will be the easiest route out of the facility,” Hook responded, shrugging. He was standing on the other side of the table. ”They also more space due to their wing span, and we prefer to keep them happy. Happy seekers mean less trouble, and we all benefit from that.” Megatron saw the wisdom in that immediately, and went back to studying the plans.   
  
When he wasn't surrounded by Constructicons, Soundwave came to join him in his chambers for a more private report. Megatron never summoned him, but the telepath came anyway, gently pushing into his life. Megatron had realised that resistance was futile, and just gave his officer instant access to all his chambers. Soundwave's creations were kept out of these chats, of course. When asked about their whereabouts, Soundwave would only say that they were making the seekers' life pure hell. That was good enough for Megatron.  
  
Once Soundwave joined him, they would sit and talk about all the things that needed to be addressed. Sometimes they spoke of his attack, but mostly they would mention things that had been forgotten for quite a while. Good momories, fallen comrades and ancient victories. All that had been good or bad in his life. Sometimes they spoke about his plans for the future, and that was when Soundwave asked how he was coping. Megatron never knew how to answer that, but the panic attacks stopped once the new routines had been enforced. That had to count for something, and Soundwave agreed.  
  
Drinking late into the night often lead to Soundwave bullying him into sleep, and Megatron found that it was for the best. When he fell into recharge without company, he would suffer nightmares. The files, all those hated memories, would assault his processor. With Soundwave in the room, he suffered less. He never stayed, only waited until Megatron had fallen into recharge. They never spoke about this, and Soundwave remained as loyal as always. The healing came slowly, but it came, and that was the only thing that mattered.  
  
Life continued, interrupted only by the occasional Autobot trying to find their base. Megatron only sent his seekers to raid when necessary, and otherwise kept everybot away from their enemies. If the Autobots found this strange then they could rust. Megatron's only concern was to keep his troops alive, and under surveillance. One of them could be the guilty one, and when the cold season came, partly freezing the ocean, Megatron made sure to study them. He made a point of spending time with them, every single one.  
  
Starscream was the only mech he avoided.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Almost a full solar year had passed since Megatron had stumbled into the base, his frame broken by  abuse and his processor in acute trauma. Many things had happened and changed ever since, starting with Megatron himself.   
  
There were days when he couldn't stand looking himself in the mirror, but that was all right. He wasn't supposed to force the healing process. It would take time, they told him, and he understood the wisdom in their words. He had worse days too – days when he would pretend that what had been done to him was a nightmare and nothing more. Those were the worst of days, because he fooled himself. He would behave as if everything was all right, but then a random scent or sound would hurl him back into spark-shattering despair. It was all in his mind, but the triggers were real. He would hear, taste, and feel things that made him incapable of processing. He-  
  
 _Felt it all, over and over again. The painful pleasure, his rapist's breath. His kiss, branding him with shame, filling him with loathing, with bliss and he would fall, forever fall-  
  
_ Only age-old discipline, the born warrior's sharpest weapon, would bring him out of it. What made it worse was that he knew these moments would never cease to exist. All he could do was to hang on, and hope for the best.  
  
And so he fought himself on a daily basis. It felt like he would never be able to move beyond the wounds left by that unknown fragger. They cut deep, drained him. The strangest part was that he wasn't losing the battle. He was, in fact, winning.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Yet another meeting done and counted for left Megatron with some work to do. He sat lazily in one of the comfortable chairs by the officers' quarters checking upon some pads when he felt, rather than saw, another mech approach him. He looked up and frowned.  
  
”Starscream.”  
  
The seeker regarded him coolly, arms crossed. The stare went on until Starscream huffed and sat down, unbidden. He looked at the pads infront of Megatron and pursed his lips, frowned. Megatron watched him, face closed off and guarded. They met often enough, but this was the first time they'd been alone in almost year. He returned the frown.  
  
”You are difficult to find,” Starscream said eventually. ”Why?”  
  
Megatron shook his helm. He gathered the pads, checking his notes again. ”I have been working, Starscream,” he sighed. In truth, he'd been busy avoiding Starscream for a little more than three seasons. ”It's hardly news,” he continued after a beat. His officers had been of help, happily and unknowingly drowning him in details. The small matters mattered, he'd told them, and they did a great job in keeping him updated and, to a certain extent, exhausted. ”It's a big facility,” he offered, ”and I've have much to do.”  
  
Starscream was suspicious, and it lent him a dangerous air. ” _Busy_. Is that what they call being a coward nowadays?”  
  
Megatron suppressed a sigh. ” _Starscream_ -”  
  
”Why aren't you doing something to stop the Autobots? They are gaining ground!” The anger made Starscream's vocals darker, somewhat rougher. ”They are getting bold, pushing at our borders. Oh, and before I forget - slagging Optimus Prime sent his _love_ last time we ran into him.”  
  
Neither of them would back down this time. Megatron tensed, far from amused. He narrowed his optics and crossed his legs, leaning back on the chair. Well, then. Starscream surely hadn't changed the last year or so. Somehow he wasn't surprised. Instead of falling into the well laid trap, he lifted one of the pads. He felt provoked, but beneath something else stirred. He steered away form it, refusing to let himself be intimidated.  
  
Starscream looked at the pad, a sneer on his face. ”Yeah, you are working,” he drawled. ”I got it the first time.”  
  
Megatron tapped the pad, watching the glyphs flow. ”The Autobots _are_ troublesome,” he said, watching Starscream over the pad. ”Which is why I would like to to know why you haven't told me about the Prime's new tactic.”  
  
”What about it?”  
  
”I was made aware about the Autobot advance on the aerial teams today, by no bot else than _Skywarp_. He sneaked his way through to my quarters just to tell me that the Autobots have been targeting seekers. Now, what I'd like to know is why _you_ didn't inform me about Thundercracker's near capture by those two maniacs.”  
  
It had been a surprise. Skywarp knew he was out of line, and had risked punishment to approach Megatron like this. Once done, he'd bolted, and Megatron had been left with dread in his tank. He hadn't seen that one coming. Ever since the cold hit, he'd made sure to keep the grounders in the base, but seekers needed to fly. They grew agitated and aggressive when grounded, so he had no choice but to let them out. Once out, however, they could be useful. He'd put them on raiding small coastal villages, quick in-and-out operations. How the Autobots had managed to find them was just another mystery, but if they were willing to target a seeker...  
  
Something was off in the enemy camp. Soundwave had been alerted, which was why his loyal officer was nowhere to be seen. They would have to keep a tight control on all the feeds and data that left the base until they knew what to expect. An agitated Thundercracker was being looked after by Hook, getting his systems checked. The surgeon was gathering data on the brutal assault, taking notes for Megatron. It had been a firm request from Megatron – somehow Thundercracker had been brought down, immobilised by a weapon no bot had heard about. Thundercracker himself been saved by Skywarp's gift and Starscream's furious attack on the grounders. Megatron wasn't surprised it had come to this – his sudden absence in the battle-field had forced the Prime to find innovative ways to get a response from him.  
  
Starscream was having none of it, of course. ”Since when do you care what happens to a mere grunt? You've never cared beyond your own safey,” he hissed. The dark face was pinched up in barely restrained anger. ”So, don't pretend to be a good leader now, Megatron. I've known you long enough to see through whatever you're up to.”  
  
”And no doubt you won't let go of your delusions,” Megatron snorted.  
  
”Shut up,” Starscream growled. ”You are hiding something.”

”There is no trap,” Megatron said sharply, gathering the pads. ”Unless _you_ are planning one, in which case I will have to disappoint you, and bid you farewell. I have no reason to fight you, Starscream, and there is much work to do. You are dismissed.”  
  
Starscream's reaction was instant. He slammed a fist onto the desktop and he got up from his seat, snarling loudly. There was nothing weak about him, and Megatron was reminded of why he'd chosen the seeker as his right hand.  
  
”Dismissed?” Starscream shook his helm. ”The _slag_ are you dismissing me. I want my answers and I'm not leaving without them.” He pointed Megatron in the face, baring his denta. ”We can start with why you've been ignoring me for the better part of a year.”  
  
Megatron's hands tightened around the pads. He bit his glossa and fought the instinct to recoil. He cursed himself. So it had come down to a confrontation – this was the very situation he'd hoped to avoid. He frowned. Every other bot in the base would have backed off, but not Starscream. He was _the_ seeker, and the hunt was in his base-coding. He would not let go of a fresh trail once he'd detected it. He was a vain mech. A brute and brawler both. He was too proud, thought too damn highly of himself and his achievements.  
  
He was also _brilliant_ , which annoyed the living Pit out of everybot in the base and beyond, Megatron included. His worst trait, however? He never knew when enough was enough. Megatron growled and swatted Starscream's finger away with a scowl. The knowing smirk he got was infuriating.   
  
”Tsssk,” Starscream mocked, putting his hands down between them. He stared Megatron in the face. He was too close, invading his private space. ”Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Well _, think again.”  
_  
”Out,” Megatron said, making it sound like a warning. This was spinning quickly out of his control and he couldn't afford to lose it in front of Starscream. The seeker hissed at him and scratched the table, cutting deep into the softer material. The sound made Megatron intake sharply and his shields shrunk into his frame. _Too close._ He felt threatened and it showed.  
  
Starscream's smile turned sickly sweet and Megatron knew better than to relax. Lowering his guard would be an invitation to rougher play. Starscream was watching him with keen interest, and didn't let him down – not good old Starscream, always so predictable. When Megatron leaned away from him, the slagger followed, his wings casting great shadows over the room. Starscream's breath smelt like potent energon. His lips were so soft, tempted him to close the distance. A shiver spread throughout Megatron's systems. _Danger_ , his HUD told him as stress spread through his fuel lines. The seeker knew what he was doing, was clearly enjoying it.  
  
Megatron refused to back down, and snarled in Starscream's face. ”Get. _Out_.”  
  
The impossible happened – his vocals broke.

”Getting soft in old age?” Starscream whispered against his lips, hiking his wings higher up. There was something unholy brewing in that malfunctioning processor of his. ”Perhaps it's time to step back and let another bot take command,” he added with a delightful little purr. ”Are you ready to call me _master_ yet...?  
  
It was like getting punched.  
  
Megatron's optics widened and from far away he heard himself grunt. Starscream was speaking in codes, but he knew what the seeker hinted at – their past. He desperately held onto that thought, willed himself to believe it because if he was wrong, and Starscream was his rapist, he would shatter. Starscream's engines revved, the vibration stroking his agitated frame. He had the maddening sensation of being ripped to pieces as memories he'd buried stirred and broke free. The world as he'd rebuilt it crashed – the longing he'd pushed away awoke with a vengence.  
  
He was left with the memory of sweetest pain and pleasure. It collided with his fear. He gasped for air, processor reeling. Starscream was close enough to kiss him, and Megatron couldn't think clearly, not with soft lips nestled against his. All he had to do was to lean in. It would be to surrender, but his whole being remembered how good it felt to do so. To let go, to give in, to put his sanity in the hands of a killer. Starscream's optics were full of malice, and Megatron unwillingly drowned in them.  
  
He drew a shuddering intake, willing himself not to relax into Starscream's threatening dominance. It was a trap, well laid and sinister. He shuddered. ”The day I call you master,” he whispered, ”will never come.”  
  
Starscream's breath tickled his lips and Megatron felt feverish – felt too much, felt like killing the glich who'd done this to him. Felt like hiding from the ugly truth. Starscream chuckled and drew a deep intake, tempting him in ways Megatron had never dreamt of before.  
  
”Are you sure about that, old mech?”  
  
Starscream grunted when Megatron pushed him away, sliding his cannon between them. ”Quite sure,” he replied, sounding far more determined than he felt. ” _Dismissed_.”  
  
Megatron's cycled a trembling intake, and stood his ground. Starscream watched him closely, his optics far too intimate. The seeker knew he'd hit a nerve, was analysing the gathered data. He rolled his shoulders and looked down at Megatron, optics burning. There would be no peace for Megatron now – he'd become the trail, and Starscream would not relent in his hunt. Megatron swallowed hard. Starscream bit his lower lip, pierced it. Licked it slowly. Megatron's optics followed the slick appendage, unsconsciously mirroring the seeker. Starscream gave a sultry little growl and smiled, looking very pleased. He stepped back, and the smile never left his finely drawn face as he bowed for Megatron. He could be graceful when he wanted to, could be the most beautiful Cybertronian in the 'verse. Megatron's spark filled with dread.  
  
”As you command, _Lord_ Megatron,” he purred. ”But we both know you'll come to me.”  
  
He didn't wait for Megatron to answer and left without any further words. Megatron watched him leave, hands holding onto the edge of the tabletop. He didn't dare to let go, because he knew they would tremble. With Starscream gone, he tried to get a grip. He shuttered his optics and drew deep, calm intakes until his frame relaxed.  
  
He put his elbows on the table-top and rested his helm against his palms. The glitch had almost kissed him! He moved a trembling hand to his mouth and touched his lips gingerly. He could taste the kiss that would have been, had he submitted to Starscream. The thought moved like a bolt through his sensor-net, burning all the way to his spinal struts. Molten pleasure pooled in his tank and he felt like a starving mech being denied of what he needed to survive.  
  
Staying away from Starscream would once again have the highest priority. The seeker knew how to make him yield, and there could be no second chances with a mech who held the power to destroy him.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Megatron wandered restlessly through the base, lost in his own thoughts. He haunted the isolated corridors, crossing them slowly and without aim, feeling strangely detatched. Out of place. He was dead tired, yet fully awake. The corridors were empty and lonesome. During the day they were bristling with life, but during the night they were deserted. His steps echoed around him, coming back to him distorted. His army was resting, and he was left alone with his worries. He didn't really mind. If anything, he was grateful for the silence.  
  
It was the same routine every night – he would lie down and stare at the ceiling until he gave up. Sleep never came, no matter how exhausted he was. It had been that way ever since Starscream had approached him. He hoped it was just a matter of being too troubled to fully recharge, and nothing else. He hadn't dared to tell Soundwave, and he would rather cut his arm off before explaining himself to Hook. The reason for his insomnia was too private to share, no matter how important for his recovery. It was just another detail to overcome, end of story.  
  
He came to a stop by the large dome he'd helped the Constructicons built a couple of seasons ago. He looked up, seeing nothing but darkness ahead. To his left were some benches, but he moved past them and came to stand by the great window. The ocean was black and empty save for the occasional squid passing by. He frowned, and then laid a hand against the cold glass. After a moment he rested his brow on the window, staring blindly ahead.   
  
There had been no further breakthrough with the case, and they still had no data on his attacker's identity. All the samples taken from his frame had been returned to him and destroyed at his command. The transfluid and lubrication was all him. He'd suspected as much. His rapist had been _very_ careful. Not even Soundwave's work had given any result – he'd analysed Megatron's  memories, gently guiding him through the pulsing mass of self-loathing and feverish need until there was nothing left to reveal. He'd been thoroughly picked apart and put back together, and four seasons later they still had _nothing_.  
  
Hook, on the other hand, had informed him that there were no corrupted files or spyware in his programming. Parts of his base-coding had been forcefully activated during the assault, but nothing had been altered. Megatron had studied the feeds and learnt just how deeply-rooted his need to submit was. He'd gathered every single piece of information on it, and deleted the proof of his shame. Painful memories and emotions aside, he was fully functional. Starscream would have loved to protest, and Megatron was almost willing to do the same. He didn't _feel_ functional. He didn't feel like himself most of the time.  
  
He'd been stripped of everything – power and control, strength and dominance. What was left, he asked himself, once you took everything away from a mech? He'd been skillfully broken and rebuilt. He'd been made a lesser mech, a poorer leader. Soundwave didn't agree. The telepath would know, but Megatron had never known anything else but power, and being robbed it had left his mind crippled. Gone were the days when all he cared about was how to win the war. Primus, how he longed to have it all unmade.  
  
Megatron shuttered his optics, rembering the good times when all he'd worried about was to keep clear of Starscream and his neverending schemes.  
  
”Starscream,” he breathed against the glass. ” _Starscream_...”  
  
His spark pulsed painfully in his chassis. Megatron's memories – all of them – came back to him. They wouldn't stay put. They wouldn't let him recharge, and they filled his processor with flashbacks of that very first, and last time, they'd been together. But it didn't stop there. In the wake of those flashbacks newer files opened and flooded his mind with things he'd rather forget. He hissed in distress, grimaced as he felt that unwanted touch again.   
  
It had taken Starscream a klik's worth of intimidation to ruin the progress Megatron had worked so hard to achieve. He was now back on square one again. He was partly to blame – thinking he would be all right as long as he avoided certain elements in his life. Meeting Starscream again had proved him wrong. Soundwave had managed to pull him out of the pitch-black depression that had come as a result of the rape, but Megatron hadn't been entirely honest with him. He'd kept things back, too ashamed to share them with the telepath. And so it all came back to Starscream, and the past they shared. He saw the mistake in his choices and felt like emptying his tank.  
  
What if his emotions got stuck in a loop again, and made him believe that he could at any moment be attacked and raped again? What if the depression, the fear, settled in his spark and made him unfit to lead his army? What then?  
  
The darkness held no anwers.  
  
He was on own this time. The glass was cold against his brow, the silence empty. He had a choice to make. From where he stood he saw two outcomes and one of them meant the end of his reign. That was unacceptable. However, if he wanted to stay a leader he would have to take steps, starting with facing his greatest fear.  
  
Nothing had ever seemed as impossible. He pressed his palms against the glass and sighed in resignation. His greatest fear? It was to submit, and _willingly_. Who would have known that the greatest warlord in Cybertronian history dreamt of kneeling like a slave infront of a lover? It wasn't a glitch, Soundwave had told him, it was just base-coding. Megatron hated weakness, and the rape had given him valid reasons to deny what he wanted and feared the most.   
  
He drew a deep intake and touched his lips, remembering the kiss that hadn't been. He'd lost it at the  sensation of Starscream's lips, and then it hit him – the solution he'd been searching for. It had been staring him straight in the face all along. He drew a shuddering intake. It would be madness, not just dangerous and stupid, but _foolish_.  
  
He unshuttered his optics and looked out. Nothing but darkness ahead. He saw no way out of it, nothing at all. He then looked up, beyond the arching walls. The ocean was lonesome, impossibly deep. In the world above its surface was frozen, but below it teemed with life. The sea was a wild entity, unforgiving and passionate. Lethal, unpredictable and impossible to tame. It devoured everything in its way.  
  
Just like Starscream.  
  
His spark expanded, and suddenly felt far too hot. It crackled with energy, damaged and frayed, but _online_. It hurt, though. There was nothing he could do about it. It would ache for a very long time, Soundwave had told him. Hook had agreed with the telepath. They would know, Megatron thought, resignation spreading through his systems like a virus. He lifted a hand to rub his chassis, trying to ease the pain within, but the pain remained. He sighed again and turned, leaning his back on the cold window. The silence bore down on him, made him feel old and worn out.  
  
He was still functioning. It mattered. Now all he had to do was to believe it.  
  
Megatron stared at the floor, trying to decide what to do next. He could stay like this, forever afraid of his own shadow – a captive of bad memories, the unwilling slave of an unknown mech. Marked and chained, bound. He shuddered, hating how his confused frame reacted to what it desired. He felt disgusted, and grimaced. It was so easy, far too easy, to remain like that. Trying to break those chains hurt too much. But if he went down that road he would become a lesser mech. He wouldn't be fit for leadership, and Starscream would no doubt take him down.  
  
He gritted his denta, furious all of a sudden. His fingers cut into his brand, but the pain helped him to think. He had reached the end of his despair – it was either choosing his own downfall or making one last attempt to break free of the chains that held him down. All he had to do was to take whatever control he had left and use it. It was the only way he would ever recover, because no bot could do it for him.  
  
The sea surrounded him and Megatron regarded it with burning optics, his thoughts filled with the memory of Starscream's lips. What did he have to lose? He'd already lost it all. He was clinging to life while he slowly died, but death didn't scare him. It wasn't enough. His dignity? He sneered, remembering how Starscream had taken that as well, ages ago.  
  
His throne, then.  
  
 _That_ , he thought, _I'm not willing to lose_.


	4. Fearless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are different kinds of control, and Megatron is about to learn that not _all_ of them are bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD - check the warnings, please.

The halls were still empty when Megatron found his way to the high ranked officers' complex in the darkness. He crossed a series of tunnels to get there, since the separate building was only accessible through the labyrinth the Constructicons had built. It was meant to confuse an attacking force and Megatron had agreed to the plans with one exception – he had drawn the line at traps. He had simply ordered them to go easy on the booby-traps and alarms both, and was thankful he had, as this area wasn't lit as well the rest of the base, and he had passed many security-posts. If there had been alarms, the whole base would have been awake by now and his plan failed as a result.  
  
On the way he'd passed his own quarters. They were smaller than most of the chambers in this area, but he peferred it that way. His quarters were more sombre and less extravagant, but then he didn't have a team to look after. The whole point of the new complex was just that – each officer had enough room to house their respective teams. It was one of the few luxuries his Decepticons could have. The sea was a large place and the humans had no technology to claim it. Until they did, his troops would have a decent base to call home.  
  
He hadn't got lost at all, surprisingly enough. He knew every turn, remembered every hall, and made sure to stay away from the inhabited ones. It came easy to him – he'd memorised the plans as he'd helped the Constructicons build the tunnels and new complex alike. There was no corner of the base he hadn't learnt to reach, perhaps that was hardly strange, seeing as he'd spent four seasons with the Constructicons. They had gladly accepted all the help they could get, even if it came from a solemn and quiet warlord.  
  
Knowing the way didn't make it any easier, though. Megatron curled his hands into fists to keep them from trembling, and his pedes felt heavier with each step he took. It was hard, and his armour prickled and his fields shrank. His spark was chanting in its chamber, demanding he turn around and never _ever_ return. It informed him that he was entering the Quintessons' den and slag it, _was he out of his mind?_ There was danger ahead, couldn't he tell?  
  
Megatron was determined to see it through, putting everything – his very sanity – into his foolish plan. He couldn't afford _not_ to do it, and so he pushed himself forward and ignored how his HUD repeated the warnings. Within kliks he arrived at the richest, most lush hall. He stared at it, and at the door at the end of it. He had to summon every scrap of strength not to turn and leave at the sight of it. He trembled, cursing himself for it, for the show of fear. There was no going back, he told himself.  
He drew a deep intake and forced himself to move.  
  
It took an eternity to walk down the hall, and longer still to reach the right door. His frame cast long shadows as he passed dimly lit lamps. He counted four chambers on one side and two on the other. There would be seekers in those chambers, but he passed them quickly. The door he was looking for was further ahead. It stood out, coloured stark red. He was mildly surprised at the sight of it, but he figured it fit. There was an equally red carpet infront of the door, and a few exquisite paintings hung on the walls. Decorations Megatron never would have bothered acquiring for his own sake, but he saw their use. There was no mistaking who these quarters belonged to, and the second most powerful mech in the army made sure that no bot would mistake him for a common soldier or thug.  
  
Everything Megatron laid his optics on served as a reminder of status, and of who the mech inhabiting the room beyond the door was. He frowned. A lifetime ago he would have claimed these halls as his own, just as he would have claimed the owner. That... wasn't what he was doing now, and the long walk to reach the door had intimidated him badly. His spark pulsed erratically in his chest and his processor was begging him to stop, but his hand moved on its own accord.  
  
He knocked.  
  
When Starscream opened, his face wore no trace of surprise, but Megatron noticed how his wings shot straight up, trembling slightly. The way he unconsciously spread them to make himself look bigger betrayed the calm gaze. Megatron kept his arm down. He didn't want a shouting match, nor did he want to antagonise the seeker. Starscream shot a quick look at his cannon, but since it wasn't aimed at him, his gaze swept up to Megatron's face again.  
  
Megatron said nothing. What could he say? His vocals would have betrayed him, and being tactful didn't become either of them. Starscream tilted his helm and pursed his lips, optics narrowing. Perhaps he was remembering their last meeting. By the way his face softened up into a smirk, that was probably the case. He said nothing as he stepped to the side, allowing Megatron to enter his chambers. Words were irrelevant, but his optics burned with a victorious fire that almost had Megatron running away. His wings hiked higher up and gleamed like scalpels.  
  
Megatron suddenly questioned his sanity, but he knew it was too late. Leaving was no option, not if he wanted the results he had come for.

The silence filled with tension as neither of them looked away. Starscream took a step closer and Megatron stubbornly stood his ground, venting slowly. Starscream purred then, his helm held high and proud. The seeker knew what the unannounced visit meant. Megatron refused to speak, to explain the obvious – it was bad enough that the echo of Starscream's words mingled with the memory of his rapist's, their words almost the same.  
  
The deep purr that emitted from the seeker did things to Megatron's base-coding, made his valve tight and slick. Starscream nodded, and Megatron had to force himself not to flinch as his SIC reached out to touch him. Strong fingertips traced his jaw, mapping out his features. Starscream looked him in the face, and then leaned forward and drew a deep intake, tasting his scent. Megatron shivered and bit back a groan as a rush of excitement moved along his spinal struts. Stark fear mingled with desire until he couldn't tell the one from the other. He shuttered his optics and felt like screaming, felt like kneeling...

”I knew you would come to me,” Starscream murmured against his audio. ”Never had a doubt, old bot...”  
  
He slid his arms around Megatron and slammed the door shut behind him. Megatron found himself slammed against it a nano-klik later, his spark in his throat. He bared his denta, but made no attempt to stop Starscream from pinning his hands above his head. The seeker kicked his pedes apart and slid in between his thighs, pushing against him with the grace of a feral cat. They stared at each-other, history repeating itself before Megatron's optics. Megatron tried to speak up, but found his vocals glitched. There was a war raging inside him. It was base-coding against spark. Neither would yield. The strain almost broke his processor.  
  
Megatron knew who he was – the most lethal warlord the 'verse had ever seen. Strong and proud, deadly. He was also a slave longing to be bound and used by a strong lover. _How can I be both_ , he asked himself, _and still function?  
_  
Starscream's frame radiated warmth, burnt his cold armour in such a pleasant way. He wanted to push against the seeker, but Starscream's grip was strong enough to dent. He knew better than to try to break free. He panted softly, whispers of desire making his interface panel heat up. Starscream growled and nuzzled his neck, suckling hard. When Megatron threw his helm back, Starscream licked his jawline, grinding against him. Megatron held the position, never once breaking Starscream's grip. He was rewarded with a hard bite.  
  
”Are you willing?”  
  
Willing...?  
  
Megatron's intakes grew frantic. Was he? He didn't think so, not really. He looked down and met Starscream's optics. The pressure around his wrists increased, but instead of a mocking laughter he got a searching look. It was then that Megatron realised that he could end this madness and leave, and Starscream would let him go. But if he did, he would never know if he was able to submit by his own choice. This was his last resort, and he'd chosen to put himself in the hands of the one mech he knew desired him this way. Sparked fierce and deadly, Starscream was everything Megatron feared, loathed, and desired.  
  
”Megatron,” Starscream said, frowning. His face was serious. ”Do you want this?”  
  
”Yes,” Megatron rasped, keeping the slowly rising panic under control. His spark wailed. He shuttered his optics and reached for that last pocket of strength he possessed. He could do this, he vowed. He _could_. He drew a deep intake and looked into Starscream's piercing gaze. There were different kinds of control, Soundwave had told him during their many talks, and that made all the difference. If the submissive was willing, then the real control lay in his hands. He was the one to decide the rules. The dominant made sure both followed them.  
  
The thought made Megatron's spark feel small and tight. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore how his emotions bled into his shields. It was hard to stay still, harder still not to run away, but he knew that if he did, he would never feel safe again.  
  
” _Why?_ ”  
  
The suspicious tone said it all. Starscream wasn't stupid, far from it actually. Of course he would know the difference between a willing lover and a terrified one. Or perhaps he thought this was one of their usual games. If the seeker thought he would be tricked and then punished, this would soon turn ugly.  
  
”Because I need it,” he answered. He regarded Starscream carefully. If there was any resemblance of balance, he would have a say in this. If he truly was allowed to be in control, he would decide the pace. He willed himself to relax and curled his hands, angling his helm back. Starscream had always wanted to own him, and there had never been a time when the seeker had been able to resist the idea. ”Please don't make me beg...”  
  
Starscream didn't answer at once and Megatron started to tremble. _Please_ , he thought as he shifted against Starscream. If Starscream refused he would lose too much. It would hurt him in ways he didn't dare to imagine. Slag. It would be-  
  
A hand stroked his hip and he jerked.  
  
”Don't move,” Starscream said, vocals hushed.  
  
Megatron stared at the ceiling, transfixed as Starscream's hand touched him. The caress wasn't what he'd expected. Instead of hard and greedy, it was slow and soft. Fingertips unhurriedly slid over the hard planes of his midriff and upper chassis. Megatron drew a deep intake when Starscream reached all the way up to his neck. He was expecting to be choked and his shields flared, but Starscream only grabbed his chin and forced his helm down.  
  
”The rules,” he said. ”I need to know the rules, Megatron.”  
  
Starscream's statement came as a pleasant surprise, but Megatron stared in bewilderment at his SIC. He didn't know what to say to that. He had no experience, and what had happened four seasons ago didn't count. Would never count. The disaster with Starscream millions of years ago didn't count either. He frowned, suddenly unsure of how to continue.  
  
The seeker shook his helm, sighing. ”The things you don't want me to do, Megatron. I need to know what you don't like.”  
  
 _Ah_.  
 _  
_”Don't blind me,” he said before he realised that he'd spoken. ”And don't gag me. _Don't_...” He calmed himself, shuttering his optics. His hands ached, and he had to uncurl them. ”Don't force me, _ever._ No toys. Nothing painful. I... I will kneel before you. I will do what you want me to, but don't...”  
  
 _Don't hurt me.  
  
_ ”There will be no forcing,” Starscream said after a few beats. ”None of the other stuff either, because you and I don't mix well with violence.” He drew a deep intake, and seemed to be looking for the right words. ”I will ask you how you feel,” he continued. ”And I need you to be honest with me. If it's good, tell me. _Show_ me, if you can't explain. I won't fail you.” He sighed softly. ”Not this time.”  
  
Megatron unshuttered his optics, looking at Starscream as if seeing him for the very first time. That was the closest thing to an apology he'd ever got from Starscream. He nodded slowly, studying the mech before him. The seeker gave Megatron a wry smile, and then stepped back. He watched Megatron for a while, obviously waiting for something. When Megatron kept his arms in the position Starscream had left them, something flashed in his optics. It could have been pride, but Megatron wasn't sure. This was a new side of Starscream, and thus unknown to him.  
  
The room was dimly lit, but Megatron didn't care. Starscream held his focus, and he looked at him as if starved. In a way, he was. He knew Starscream sooner or later would order him to kneel, and his armour heated up at the thought. Starscream smiled, studying him right back. With a few words Starscream had managed to calm his frantic spark. Megatron didn't feel threatened by the way the red gaze moved over his frame. Not even in this position. He cycled deeply, relaxing. He felt... elated, _good_.  
  
Starscream was clearly affected by his submission. It showed in the way he angled his wings. His face was darker than usual, flushed. He spoke again, and Megatron paid attention to every single word, clinging to them in a way that should have worried him.  
  
”When you enter this room,”Starscream told him gently, ”you will present yourself to me. I want the cannon by the door. If you feel threatened, tell me and I will back off. I don't care if we try to kill each other outside my chambers, but there will be no violence here.”  
  
He was starting to feel warm, almost drunk. Starscream was looking at him, but Megatron said nothing. He waited for instructions, and nothing had ever seemed as important. There was a whisper of fear curled around his spark, but Megatron was glad. He was doing it – he was beating his own fears. Taking control.  
  
”Repeat what has been said,” Starscream said all the sudden.  
  
Megatron's systems jolted to life. ”I'm to leave my cannon by the door. I will present myself in whatever manner you want me to. There will be no violence. You won't... you won't force me, won't do things I don't enjoy. You want honesty from me, want me to show what I like.”  
  
Starscream nodded, drawing a deep intake. ”And what _do_ you like, Megatron?”  
  
The question made his shields flare, and Megatron swallowed hard. It was hard to admit these things, even to himself. Starscream looked regal, his features controlled. He gaze gave nothing away. He didn't even gloat. He wondered how much self-control Starscream truly had, and if he would be able to break it.  
  
”I like to be watched,” he murmured, looking Starscream in the optics. ”I like to yield, to submit. I like to give control up. I like kisses. I like being caressed, soft or rough – I don't care as long as you just touch me. I like my pleasure to sting. I want to kneel.”  
  
” _Yes_...”  
  
Megatron arched, bucking involuntarily. Starscream's growl made his base-coding needy, and he panted. Starscream put his hands on his hips, biting his lower lip. Megatron made a soft sound and pushed his hips forward, slid his legs further apart. Starscream moved closer again, his fields heavy on Megatron's own.  
  
”There is one more thing,” he said, reaching out to cup Megatron's chin in his hand. ”If you want to stop, tell me. If you want to leave, you can do so at any time. Is that clear?”  
  
”Yes,” Megatron breathed. He was acutely aware of Starscream's proximity. Their frames almost touched, and Primus but it wasn't enough. He wanted to reach out, wanted to be touched, but he knew better than to move. He'd learnt his lesson.  
  
The thought made him shudder and look away. He didn't pull free from Starscream's grip, but he avoided his optics until the association was gone. Starscream's thumb suddenly stroked his lower lip and Megatron opened his mouth. Starscream purred, kept stroking until Megatron's intakes came quicker. A moment later, the finger was gone. He looked up.  
  
”You always looked best like this,” Starscream murmured. The seeker pushed closer still, claiming the spot between Megatron's thighs again. ”Does it feel good to know that I want to touch and lick, taste and grope your whole frame...?”  
  
Megatron tried, but he couldn't keep his moan back. Starscream's palms were suddenly moving in tandem, stroking his sides and hips. It was all slow and good, unhurried. He wanted to look away, but Starscream was smiling, looking so pleased that Megatron wanted to drown in his optics. It went on for some time, and then Starscream's hands followed the line of his arms. Megatron felt the pressure around his wrists again and sighed. Yes, so much better...

A slick pressure was all the warning he got, and then Starscream was kissing him. The kiss was deep, slow and sweet. He shuddered – it was completely different from...  
  
His spark pulsed painfully fast in his chassis. He could be wrong, it told him. Starscream was a traitor, had tried to kill him before. Megatron corrected it - he _might_ to be wrong, but he'd been kissed by his rapist, and this kiss? It didn't feel the same. The way Starscream held his helm, the way he angled Megatron's – even his glossa felt wrong. _No_. Not wrong, just perfectly right. Safe. Different. Unless a bot could change how they felt when they kissed, Starscream just got himself off the list of suspects, and Megatron could have wept in relief.  
  
”Harder,” he moaned into the kiss, desperate to be right. A kiss couldn't change, could it? A kiss was unique – it wasn't possible to duplicate. Starscream nipped him and continued to ravish him just as slowly. Megatron sampled it, felt it in all his components. The slick pressure, the soft nips and the way Starscream tasted – it _was_ entirely different from the glitch that had hurt him.  
  
”Later perhaps,” Starscream murmured as he pulled away. ”I like it slow and soft with you, and I've wanted this too long to spoil it.”  
  
Starscream licked his lips, asking for entrance once more. Megatron let him in, and lost himself in the pleasure a single kiss brought. Soon he was moaning and grinding into Starscream. The seeker encouraged him with small, soft sighs and gentle words. When Starscream withdrew he made a sound of distress. The seeker's faceplates were dark, his optics needy. His lips were kiss-bruised and wet, so tempting. So _good_.  
  
”Your cannon, take it off,” Starscream growled roughly. ”Take it off and then slide your panel back. I want to see what belongs to me.”  
  
The way Starscream spoke made Megatron's core temperature spike, and he did as he was told. Taking his cannon off was madness, but one look at Starscream's face was enough. There was nothing but want in it, but it wasn't mindless or threatening. It was... controlled. _Contained_ , his base-coding whispered. Just the way it should be. The cannon came off, and Megatron drew a deep intake, cycling the air slowly. He was supposed to put it down. He couldn't do such a thing. It was such an important part of him – without it he couldn't transform.  
  
Only Starscream understood how much it cost him to follow such a simple command. If he put it down, he wouldn't just be helpless, but he would acknowledge Starscream's dominance. He suckled his lower lip, tasting Starscream's essense. Starscream, who admitted that he'd wanted Megatron for ages. He looked at Starscream, noticed the way his SIC looked at the cannon, and suddenly he understood something he hadn't before. Power and control, Soundwave had told him, came in different shapes, and it went _both_ ways...  
  
Now he knew what to do.  
  
”Master.” Starscream's little shiver felt like high-grade, and Megatron fell to his knees. He slid his panel back and bowed his helm. He lifted his arms, offering his cannon as a sacrifice. ”Please accept my submission.”  
  
For a moment he thought he'd done the wrong thing, and then Starscream was there, taking the cannon from him. It was a loaded moment, but Megatron kept his optics on Starscream's brightly coloured thrusters. The seeker moved past him, but he would be back. There was no doubt in Megatron's processor.  
  
Starscream came to stand before him. ”Well played,” he purred. ”Now follow me.”  
  
Megatron rose.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Fingers roamed over Megatron's chassis, made him arch. He was burning. His spark pulsed, making him strangely needy. He cried out as Starscream mouthed his neck and nipped hard enough to sting, but never enough to mark. Megatron moaned and held onto the bars. He wasn't bound, but he held onto them anyway. It felt better that way.  
  
Starscream purred every now and then, stroking and petting him enthusiastically. Megatron thought he woud go mad. His spike was pressurised and his valve bared, but Starscream hadn't touched either of them yet. He wanted to reach for Starscream and hold him, but held back. Starscream hadn't given him permission.  
  
”So strong,” Starscream murmured against his audios, sliding against him. ”So fraggin' _big_...”  
  
Those vocals would be his undoing. Megatron hissed when the seeker bit his jawline, but didn't pull away. Starscream claimed his lips again, kissing him hard. Megatron sighed in bliss. Starscream suckled his glossa as if it was the best thing in the world, then gently bit it. He shifted and was suddenly moving away. Megatron arched, a sound of distress leaving his lips.  
  
The seeker rested his weight on his right arm and looked down at him. Megatron met his optics, cycling deep, uneven breaths. Starscream's wings pushed forward and stirred. Megatron longed to stroke them, to worship them. The seeker was breathless, faring not much better than him. His spike rubbed against Megatron's thigh, leaving wet trails.  
  
”You are such a good pet,” he whispered, stroking Megatron's chassis slowly. ”And, while I _do_ like it when you wait for my commands, you are allowed to touch me.”  
  
Megatron nodded, letting go of the bars. His arms ached and he rolled his shoulders, watching Starscream's flushed face. He dared himself to slide his palms over Starscream's frame, cycling a soft sigh. He was allowed... Starscream gave him a thoughtful look, then shook his helm and nuzzled him. When Megatron reached his wings, Starscream pushed them into Megatron's touch. It was easy to understand what the seeker wanted, and he spent a few moments caressing the broad, shining wings.  
  
”That feels good,” Starscream told him. He shuttered his optics with a look of bliss in his face. It didn't take Megatron long to figure out what the seeker liked the most. By then Starscream was leaning over him, panting loudly, his hands kneading Megatron's shoulders.  
  
”Primus, I forgot your hands are good for a _lot_ of things,” Starscream said suddenly, resting his helm on Megatron's chassis. He shuddered, planting small kisses all over Megatron's armour, no longer able to hold himself back. He slid a thigh over Megatron's midrif and straddled him with some difficulty. His wings spread, quietly begging for more.

Megatron watched Starscream as the seeker moaned. He felt oddly calm, as if he wasn't really there. He felt like an observer rather than a participant. A part of him felt detached from reality, but it was all right. He was all right, wasn't running away. On top of him, Starscream moaned and pushed back at his spike every time he tweaked and clawed the right spots. Soon the seeker's intakes were ragged and he shuttered his optics, as if it was too much. Since Starscream didn't ask him to stop, Megatron continued to torment him.  
  
His frame ached with restrained need. His valve dripped lubricant and his spike ached, but it felt so good that he didn't want it to end. He desperately wanted the release, but it wasn't his choice to make. Starscream proximity, the comfortable weight and warmth of him, soothed Megatron in ways he couldn't explain. He sighed sweetly and slid his fingers over the brands, tracing them lovingly with the tip of his fingers. He'd burnt them in so long ago. It was a pleasant memory, and in the midst of his confused emotions he felt a whisper of ownership. He gave a small growl and rubbed them until Starscream threw his helm back and keened.

Starscream fell over him, panting loudly. He curled and held onto his shoulders, licking and biting his neck. He shuddered over and over again, enduring the sensations until he couldn't take it any more. ”Enough,” he gasped. ”Can't process when you do that.”  
  
Megatron cycled a deep intake, doing his best not to squirm. He let his hands slide down to Starscream's hips, wondering what would come next. He was... afraid, in a very calm way. While this was very different from what he'd been through a solar year ago, it still held the potential to damage him. He swallowed and kneaded Starscream's hips, offering the seeker his neck cabling, hoping it would keep him soft and sweet. He liked how it was, with Starscream telling him what to do and him obeying. Even though the elements of dominance and submission were there, this was closer to love-making than anything else. His spark ached at the thought.  
  
The pressure against his spike continued and he realised that Starscream was rubbing himself against it. He hissed and fought to keep still, but eventually gave up and ground against the well-formed aft. His spike was achingly hot. Starscream seemed unaware of the sounds he was making, but Megatron felt them all the way in his valve. He was having a hard time waiting for orders, but he would be damned if he broke the rules.  
  
Starscream suddenly shuddered and lifted himself over Megatron's aching spike, positioning himself over it. He met Megatron's optics and moaned, held otherwise still. Megatron stroked his thighs, wanting nothing else but slam into the slick valve. Somehow he managed _not_ to and was rewarded with a little growl.  
  
”You surprise me,” Starscream purred, pleasure making his vocals rougher. Megatron watched him with rapt attention, trembled beneath him. He gave Starscream a full view of what his actions were doing to him. Starscream enjoyed it, fanning his wings in excitement. ”It must be so hard to lie there and wait for my order... Makes me all wet. Can you feel it, how slick I am?”  
  
Megatron groaned, biting his lower lip hard enough to cut. He held onto his tattered self-control, fought himself and kept the instinct to thrust back. Starscream smirked, sliding his valve over the spike's tip, wetting it. Megatron thought he would combust, his hands kneading Starscream's hips. Every moan went straight to his valve, every little movement stealing his discipline away. Soon he was moving his head from side to side, clinging to his resolution to not disobey Starscream.  
  
”Mmmm, _Megatron_... Look at me,” Starscream growled, fisting his spike hard enough to sting. The pain-pleasure made him cry out and arch. ”That's much better,” Starscream murmured. ”Look at me. Yes, just like that... I want to see your face when I fuck you. Don't move,” he hissed. ”And don't you dare look away...”  
  
Heat surrounded Megatron as the Starscream's valve swallowed him inch by inch. Starscream went slow, his hands splayed over Megatron's midrif. He undulated his hips, giving himself time to adjust to the broad head before pushing down. Megatron drew a deep intake and curled his fingers over Starscream's hips, holding on as if his very life depended on it. Starscream watched him like a cyber hawk, shaking as he sank over the spike. He keened. Megatron was a _big_ mech – everybot could see he was. It was only natural that his spike would be in proportion to the rest of him. It was big enough to break some of Starscream's self-control.  
  
Starscream hissed and ground down, making both of them cry out. Megatron clenched his jaws, willing himself not to dent Starscream's hips. He was so tight, all hot and slick around him. His spike pulsed and twitched, deeply buried inside Starscream. The seeker settled on his lap, taking him completely – his face was a landscape of awe and pained pleasure. Megatron knew better than to move and concentrated on Starscream's optics, drowning in their intensity.  
  
”Move,” Starscream said after a klik, vocals strained. He shuttered his optics, panting loudly. His whole frame seemed to vibrate. A shudder ran from the tightness of his valve all the way to the tips of his wings. They were dipped low. ”So... f-fragging _big_...”  
  
Megatron cycled a shallow intake and rocked his hips, moving slowly. This was new territory and he didn't know whether Starscream enjoyed the stretch or was in actual pain. He rocked gently until the slick passage accepted the intrusion. Starscream moaned, nodding quickly. Megatron bit his bruised lip and pushed into the maddening heat, thrusting harder this time. The Starscream's optics shot open and he cried out, leaning over Megatron. With each in-thrust his wings hiked higher up, and soon they were fanning back and forth.  
  
The seeker held his optics, growling. He ground down, rolling his hips to meet Megatron halfway, and tensed all of a sudden. His mouth shot open but no sound came. He almost curled on top of Megatron and shook forcefully. No bot needed to tell Megatron what that meant. He found a rhythm that made Starscream snarl at him and aimed each thrust to hit and massage the spot he'd found. This he knew how to do, this was in his coding, and he followed it like a starving mech. Starscream yelled when he slammed into the sweet valve, and scratched his chassis.  
  
”F-Frag! Don't stop, don't you _dare_ stop...!”  
  
Their fields mingled and crackled, the charge rising. Megatron stroked Starscream's hips and, after a moment, moved to cup his aft. Starscream groaned, never ceasing to roll his hips, taking his spike with abandon. Megatron spread Starscream's aft, kneading it as Starscream tightened around him. It was hard to process, but he didn't care. The seeker was taking him, giving him commands with a flushed face and broken, harsh vocals. To move faster or go deeper, to fuck him like he meant it. To fuck him like he wanted to hurt him. Megatron groaned, arched into him and found a hidden reservoir of discipline he hadn't known was there. He nuzzled Starscream and grabbed his hips again, bouncing him up and down, fucking him ruthlessly hard.  
  
Starscream's suddenly snapped his hips and threw his helm back, howling. He put his hands around Megatron's, and moved with him. ”Rub me,” he gasped. ”Give me your hand...!”  
  
Megatron hurried to do as told, spark pulsing erratically, his sight blurred. His overload was so close, but he wouldn't come until Starscream told him to. He bit his own moans back, wanted to hear Starscream's desperate vocals. The heat was burning him, the friction so sweet he wanted to weep. He slid his hand around the elegant spike, broad and not much smaller than his own. Starscream snarled and fucked it, pushing into his hand. Megatron's intakes came too fast, his fans barely able to keep his core temp down. Starscream snarled and grabbed the back of his helm, taking him with the precision he usually showed when flying and killing.  
  
”Come on, little pet,” he cooed. ”Fuck your master. Nnghh, I _know_ you want to...”  
  
He pushed Megatron's helm closer, growled against his lips. The seeker's optics burned him and Megatron had the fleeting sensation of flying with him, of freefalling. He was... safe. His hand was wet with transfluid, his spike was slamming into Starscream's valve and all he knew and felt, all he tasted and smelt, was Starscream's desire. He shuddered and redoubled his efforts, making it as good as possible. Starscream whined, bit his lips. Megatron wanted to kiss him, but like a good pet he held back, worshipping his master as he was taken. He didn't hear his own vocals, nor did he hear his sobs, but Starscream probably did, because all of a sudden he was granted a searing kiss. Lips, soft yet commanding, pressed against his own, licking and claiming. The kiss erased any trace of the foul memories that had haunted him.  
  
”Yes,” Megatron murmured. ” _Yes_...”  
  
Starscream was magnificent, he shone. Surely no bot had ever been as fierce, as wild and reckless, as cruel as his second in command. Starscream snarled, riding him hard, denting him. There was nothing soft or weak about this coupling – there was nothing resembling cowardice. This was a leader taking what he wanted from a subject, and Megatron knew his place. It made his spark spiral and expand, made his frame tense.  
  
”No coming yet,” Starscream said between clenched denta, slowin down. ”You are not allowed to. I will, _nnghh_ , have you... and then I will make you come. Is that clear?”  
  
Megatron nodded, slowing down to match Starscream's movements. He rocked his hips and looked up at Starscream with wide optics, fighting to keep the overload back. Starscream stroked his face, all flushed. Heat rolling off their frames in great waves as they moved together until Starscream started to shudder. He then pulled Megatron closer and buried his face against his shoulder. His thighs tightened around Megatron and his valve grew slicker. It was so small, yet strong enough to almost push his spike out. He used more force and bucked beneath the seeker. Starscream bit his helm, optics shuttered, his expression one of bliss. Each intake he drew became a moan, but he wasn't there just yet, needed a push. Megatron stroked his spike faster, fucking him steadily, going slow and deep until Starscream whined.  
  
”Harder,” he hissed. Megatron swallowed hard, but did as told. He wasn't sure he would be able to hold his own overload back, but somehow he managed it. The pleasure was heady, almost painful, but it was the sweetest thing he'd ever felt. He wanted more, thirsted for more – for the sting and delicious warmth that followed. Starscream grunted, taking his spike all the way. Megatron thought he would go insane, fucking the seeker with a ferocity he hadn't known he possessed. All that mattered was Starscream's overload, and when he felt the calipers of the valve press down on his spike, he knew his master was just about to come. He fucked Starscream hard enough to damage, but Starscream took it and demanded more.  
  
”P-Primus,” Megatron whispered, clinging to his discipline. Starscream was watching him, snarling at him, grinding down so hard it truly hurt. Megatron almost crashed, the need to overload tearing at his systems. He arched and cried out, shuttering his optics as his frame fought to tear out his control and just come, but Starscream was having none of that.  
  
”Look... _look_ at me! You are mine, Megatron,” he growled. ” _Forever_ mine...! You have no master but me from now on!”  
  
Megatron felt a high come over him at Starscream's claim. His words triggered something and warmth spread through out his system. He felt almost drowsy, as if submerged in an oil bath. All that mattered was Starscream, his wishes and demands. Pleasure became pain, and pain was pleasure, leaving him in a dazed state.  
  
”Yes... I'm yours,” he whispered, acknowledging the truth. Starscream hissed and arched above him, slapping his hand away. The seeker stroked himself furiously, pulsing around his spike. Megatron fucked him until Starscream screamed loud enough to wake the whole base up. His face was pinched up in ecstasy and his hips snapped. He took all of Megatron's spike and held there, shuddering over and over again. He caught Megatron's gaze and growled, rubbing himself even as transfluid shot from his spike and spilled beneath him. He grunted and leant a hand on Megatron's chassis, over his brand, and purred in utter satisfaction. Starscream's valve clenched and pulsed, made Megatron sob, but he hadn't been allowed to stop, hadn't been given the permission to come just yet. He was going to die, he thought – or perhaps he said it outloud. He couldn't know. Everything felt like an energon-enhanced illusion.  
  
”Nngh, s-stop,” Starscream groaned, helm hanging between his shoulders. ”Enough, pet. No more... Aaah, frag that.. So good. You are so _good_ at it...”  
  
Starscream looked up and Megatron keened at him in desperation. He was covered in Starscream's come, dripping wet were they connected. His spike _hurt_ , but the pain was pleasure, and it messed him up. He shook, didn't know what to do with himself and all he could think about was how wrong he'd been about his SIC. Starscream had been rough and forceful with Soundwave, brutal even, dominating his fellow officer with such skill that it made Megatron envious. Soundwave had come screaming. It had scared Megatron too, but here and now, there was no humiliation, no pain, no rough play, no cruel touches. Just processor-shattering pleasure.  
  
”Please,” he whispered, not giving a damn about how his vocals broke or how pitiful he sounded. ”Please let me come... Master, _please_ let me come.”  
  
The seeker licked his lips, relaxed against him. ”Mmmm, I like _that_. Keep begging me, old bot, and I might just let you,” he murmured, rolling his hips in a lazy manner. ”Convince me you need it, tell me how bad you want it and what you will do to be allowed to come.”  
  
Megatron sobbed, hands scrambling all over Starscream's frame. He caressed the seeker with trembling fingertips, shifted against him. Starscream's face was placid and he looked to be in no hurry. And why would he? Megatron knew who was the master and who was the slave. He shuddered and angled his helm, giving the seeker inmediate access, would he want it, to his neck cabling. He was as vulnerable as he would ever be.  
  
”I... I will serve you,” he whispered, staring at the wall. ”A leader s-serves his subjects, all of them, in a-any way he can,” he continued, feeling dread claw at his spark. He had learnt, Primus damn it, but he'd learnt. Leadership meant _serving_. His vocals broke down, became strangled sobs. ”Please let me come, p-please... I will kneel before you, I will l-let you command me, I'll do anything you want, just please let me come!”  
  
Starscream purred softly and ceased the movement of his hips. ”Was that so hard?”  
  
”Yes,” Megatron answered him truthfully, but his thoughts were lost in the memory of a solitary cave. He was once again bound and forced to endure torture of a kind he'd never thought of would happen to him. Slag, to _anybot_. It made him feel sick. He shuttered his optics. Panic pushed into his spark, hurting it. He couldn't intake properly – he cycled too fast, too shallow. Starscream suddenly grabbed his helm and turned it.  
  
”Megatron? Are you all right...?”  
  
Megatron guessed some of his anguish must have showed, and probably still did. He dared himself to unshutter his optics and met the seeker's gaze. He shook his helm. Starscream was quiet for a couple of kliks, watching him with that questioning look in his face again. It was hard to read him, but Megatron sobbed in relief when the seeker slid himself off his spike. Starscream draped himself over his feverish frame and stroked him gently. Megatron gripped the sheets and hid his helm against Starscream's arm.  
  
”I'm sorry,” Starscream said as he nuzzled him. ”I was selfish... Megatron, is there anything you need? Time to calm down a bit? Something to drink? If you need me to, I can let go-”  
  
” _No_ ,” Megatron rasped quickly. Starscream's engines soothed him, his touch grounded him in the now. ”Please don't,” he added.  
  
Starscream nodded and stayed where he was, stroking and petting him. His hands were gentle, and felt wonderful. The seeker sighed and nibbled Megatron's helm, seeking contact. Megatron shifted and looked up, met Starscream's optics after a moment of dread. There was nothing but curiousity and worry in them. When Megatron nuzzled him, he leant down and planted small kisses all over Megatron's face. When he reached Megatron's lips he paused, intaking softly. He barely let their lips touch and Megatron's processor broke for a second time – Starscream was _asking_ for entrance, wasn't pushing him. He sighed in relief and pleasure both, then licked and suckled Starscream's lips until there was no doubt of his wishes.  
  
The way Starscream growled made his tank flutter. The kiss was was a soft, sweet thing, soothing his aching spark. He arched into Starscream and slid his arms around the seeker's waist. He wished he'd known this before his rapist had forced him to submit. With Starscream it came easy, felt good. The seeker held his promise to look after him, and perhaps that was what made the whole difference. Giving up his will was hard enough. Obeying was even harder. To fully submit demanded so much from him that he needed... this.  
  
Even now his spike was hard, aching. The pain had turned into a blazing knot of need between his legs. He hissed, assualted by sensations he'd tuned out as his spark ached. He picked that up as well, Starscream. One day Megatron would ask him how he could concentrate like that and perhaps take a few notes.  
  
”Do you need me to take care of that for you?”  
  
There was no mockery in Starscream's vocals, but Megatron thought he felt a smile against his lips. He suckled Starscream's lower lip, then nodded. He spread his legs, not really knowing what to expect, but he trusted Starscream to read him well enough to make it good, no matter what he chose to do with Megatron's permission. Starscream lifted his helm and fanned his wings, looking down at his face. There was... _something_ there. Something beyond worry and need. He could spot hunger and desire, but that wasn't what he'd seen. Starscream hid it well. Megatron didn't know what to make of it, but he was determined to find out.  
  
He swallowed and sought Starscream's hand out, took it in his own. After a klik he brought it down over his spike, and then further down. Starscream's optics dimmed and he let out a soft moan when his fingers were met with the slick heat of Megatron's valve. The seeker gave him a quick look, looking for his consent.  
  
Megatron nodded.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Pleasure came in huge waves, coiling in his tank. Megatron sobbed into his hand, lifting his aft off the berth as he pushed his heels down. He rubbed his spike, pumping it slowly. Starscream nudged his hand away and kissed him heatedly, all the while teasing his external node without mercy. The seeker murmured into the kiss, whispering words that made Megatron's core temp rise into alarming heights. The pleasure was sweet and soft, not at all what his frame seemed to remember. It felt all the better because of it, and he spread his thighs wider for Starscream, hissing as the pressure changed.  
  
”S-Slag.” He groaned and bit his palm, writhing as Starscream's fingertips slid further down. He needed to come, he desperately wanted to come, but without Starscream's permission he wouldn't reach his peak.  
  
”Does it feel good?”  
  
”Y-Yes!”  
  
”Such a good mech,” Starscream purred. He spread him open. ”I do like an expressive lover – one that will cry out for me.” He bit Megatron's jaw, then licked his faceplate savagely. ”Perhaps I want to make you beg... Always wanted you to beg me, old bot.”  
  
He was close to begging already. Starscream's fingers nudged the rim of his valve and Megatron jolted. The pleasure he felt was gone within a nano-klik. He closed his legs in a sudden wave of panic. Flashes of pain and pleasure, of sickening humiliation, whirled in his processor and he couldn't stop himself, didn't know how to. His spark suddenly started to ached again, and he cursed himself over and over again.  
  
Why now? Why slagging now? It had been _so_ good...

Starscream's hand stilled. ”Megatron?”  
  
 _Fearless,_ he told himself as he stared at Starscream with a stricken expression in his face. He thought he saw a whisper of understanding in the seeker's face, something dawning him and it made it all worse. _You were fearless,_ he told his agitated spark. _You feared_ nothing _. No bot could match you! Remember how it felt? Slag it, if you can't go through with this then you'll never know if you can submit willingly. Then you will fear everybot strong enough to force you...  
  
_ ”Megatron?” Starscream's vocals were soft, almost hushed. ”I can't pull my hand away. Open your thighs so I can stop touching you.”  
  
Starscream vocals came from far, far away. Their optics were locked and Megatron thought his spark would go out like a candle. It hurt that much, stung as if pierced. He tried to take control over his limbs again and hated himself for showing the weakness that had shaped his life the last four seasons. Starscream was watching him, the flush in his face receeding. Megatron could see that worry again, that silent wondering. He snarled in distress and turned his helm.  
 _  
You... were... fearless!  
  
_ ”Don't stop. Please, don't stop” he begged after a few, shaking intakes. He hid his face with his hand, refusing to let Starscream see how ashamed he was. ”Go slowly. Not too deep.” Another shuddering intake and he slid his legs open. ”It hurts, if it's too fast or rough.”  
  
”Megatron...”  
  
”Starscream, for frag's sake don't stop!”  
  
He hadn't meant to snarl, but Starscream didn't react with violence. Instead he drew a deep intake and nodded. Megatron admired his self-control, wished he had some of that when he was commanding his army. He willed himself to relax and almost jumped out of his armour when Starscream kissed his chassis. The kiss was placed right above his spark. Starscream's glossa followed not a moment later and Megatron's toes pointed in response. _Sensitive_ , he thought, _even after all these years._ The way Starscream mapped and licked the brand made him quiver. It felt good, it felt like Starscream was telling him something.  
  
The longer it went on, the easier it became to relax. Within a moment or two he slid his legs open again, pushing his aft down onto the berth. Starscream purred and suckled his brand. It made Megatron squirm and rub against his fingers. The seeker didn't move them, but pressed them against his folds in rhythm with his glossas teasing. Megatron shuddered and resumed the stroking of his spike, going slow and sweet.  
  
”Yes,” Starscream sighed, looking up at him.  
  
Megatron worried his lower lip, nodding at him, pleading him to go on. Starscream did, carefully spreading him open. He was slick, and it was easy for Starscream slide his fingertips over the rim of his valve. The seeker held his gaze, kneeling by his side. Megatron could have screamed, the tension rising. He wanted it. He _needed_ it. Above else, he desperately had to know whether he would be able to take it or not. When a finger gently breached him, he thought his spark would implode, but Starscream spoke to him, drew Megatron's attention.  
  
”There is no rush,” he said. ”If you need me to stop, just tell me. If you want to come, I will make it good.”  
  
The finger felt more than just a finger, but Megatron figured he was just that tight. He wanted to shutter his optics, but Starscream's face was so full of emotion that he couldn't look away from it. Starscream breathed slowly out and stroked his outer node with his thumb, gently sliding his finger back inside him. Just the tip of a finger, but it could have been a spike – _Starscream_ _was inside him_. Megatron gasped, pushing back onto it. They had never got this far before things went wrong between them. Starscream looked at him, face flushed dark. He went deeper this time, stroking the soft walls within.  
  
Neither of them spoke. Words were unnecessary.

Deep, so very slow, always rubbing and stroking. Megatron was having a hard time keeping Starscream's gaze. Every time that finger reached the right spot his world would turn white, and he would utter a desperate prayer to whatever god was willing to listen. Starscream had said Megatron was good, but that was a lie. Starscream knew exactly what _he_ was doing, and he was holding back. Starscream was good at this. Slaggit – Starscream was good at just about everything, Megatron thought in between moans.  
  
He rocked his hips, taking the finger deeper. He didn't have to tell Starscream – the seeker saw and read him correctly. _Just one finger_ , Megatron thought, bowing his back. Just one finger. _Starscream's_ finger. He rubbed himself harder, thinking of how it must please his ambitious SIC, and cried out out when Starscream kept aiming at his sweet spot. It was too much...! It wasn't enough. He gritted his denta and growled, all needy. Starscream's optics burnt, the steady sound of his vents hardly masking the small moans he was uttering. Megatron hissed. He held the overload back, had to, couldn't come unless he was allowed to.  
  
”More?”  
  
Megatron couldn't find his vocals. He nodded, pushing his thighs to the side. For a crazed moment he thought Starscream would spike him, but the seeker didn't. Instead he moved shifted until he was sitting between Megatron's legs. He spread him open, rubbed and stroked his inner thighs until Megatron sobbed in desparation. Starscream then showed mercy and slid the finger back. From this angle he reached deeper and after a few sweet strokes, he gently slid a second finger inside Megatron's valve. The effect was instant.  
  
”Oh, Primus damn it _please_...!”  
  
Starscream almost stopped, but one look at Megatron's face made him change his mind. Megatron groaned, bit his own hand. His valve felt so full. It felt over-stuffed. He knew it wasn't possible – it was just two fingers! Their owner, however, was an expert at what he was doing. Megatron cried out, holding the base of his spike to keep his overload back. Starscream did something with his hand, rotated it slowly, then curled his fingers and Megatron howled. He knew the battle was lost and rocked into Starscream. When the seeker set a faster pace, Megatron found himself yelling and cursing every time Starscream bumped into his spot.  
  
”Megatron...”  
  
He was begging. He was sobbing. He was _dying_. Two fingers did this to him? How was that even possible? This wasn't what he'd endured with the malfunctioning glitch of a rapist that had captured him. His frame had been confused, no doubt, hungry for any kind of release. This was nothing like it and there was no way in the living Pit Starscream would have hurt him like that. He ached, yes, but that was from keeping himself back. But doing so felt so good he wanted to sink forever into the sensations and never ever let go. Suddenly Starscream was leaning over him, fucking him harder and deeper, his face just a few inches from him. The seeker growled and Megatron's spark expanded. He let go of the sheets and slid his trembling arms around Starscream, held onto him. Just two fingers, but it was it was _so good_...!  
  
Megatron gasped, pain-pleasure crashing his HUD. He was clinging, shuddering, unaware of what he was saying. He was begging, that much he already knew, but he couldn't hear himself – all he heard was the roar of Starscream's vents and the pulsing of his spark. He sobbed, trembling hard, riding Starscreams's fingers, fighting himself. He... would not... _not_...  
  
 _Would not-  
_  
”Don't hold back,” Starscream whispered against his audios, fucking him roughly and hard, so very fast, _deep_. ”Come for me, pet...”  
  
It came from the depths of his base-coding, from the bottom of his being – a wail that never seem to end. He thrashed beneath Starscream, finally allowing himself the sweet release. No pain, his failing systems told him. There was no pain, only bliss and sweetness, addictive as potent energon. He moaned, feeling lost and suddenly very much afraid. He was being re-written all over again. Only this time it had been by his own choice. He shook against Starscream, moved his head from side to side. It was too much, too slagging much, but the overload ruled out every higher function. His valve pulsed and clenched around Starscream's fingers, drawing more pleasure than he'd ever known. He sobbed in despair.  
  
”S- _Starscream_...”  
  
”Shhh,” Starscream whispered. ”It's all right. I'm here. It's all right, I won't let go... I... I'll never let go,” he said, vocals thick with emotion. ”Never ever again, I promise.”  
  
Megatron wanted to tell him so many things, but his processor felt sluggish, delirious. He held onto Starscream like a newspark. How was it possible? It... It didn't hurt. It hadn't hurt. Why...? He shuddered, disoriented. Where was his strength... why was he so weak?  
  
Who was he, _what_ was he...?  
  
”You are Megatron,” Starscream told him gently. ”The fiercest of all, the strongest warrior the universe has ever seen. You,” he murmured against Megatron's lips, ”belong to me.”  
  
He nodded, and peace settled in his spark. He was Megatron, and he was _fearless_. When darkness fell upon him, he knew he'd lost the battle, but won the war.  
  
*~*~*  
  
It took a long time before Starscream could move.  
  
When he found a way to break free from the hold his emotions had got over him, he rested his helm upon Megatron's chassis. He had to cycle deeply until he could trust himself not to keen. He shook in distress. Oh, Primus, what had he done...?  
  
Below him, Megatron was in deep recharge, exhausted by their play. Starscream shook himself out of it and carefully slid his fingers out of the small valve. He grabbed a blanket and pulled it over both of them. He was unwilling to let go of his leader, needed to make sure he was all right. He sent a quick command and turned off the lamps.  
  
The darkness couldn't hide his guilt.  
  
He was so cold. He shouldn't be, but he was. It felt like his spark would never be warm again. He stroked Megatron's helm, soothing him in his sleep. Megatron was still shaking, clinging to him. Starscream draped himself over him. It was a strange sensation to feel this protective. He shuttered his optics and rested his face against Megatron's brand. A pang of anguish made his spark hurt, but he endured it and analysed the events.

Earlier, when he'd allowed Megatron into his chambers, he'd felt victorious. At first he'd thought Megatron had been worried about his own safety. All things considered they were still rivals, and Starscream would have felt much the same. Deep down, he'd felt that something was off, wrong, but he'd been so pleased that he hadn't followed up on it. No more than explaining how things would be – it was Megatron choice to submit. Not a decision Starscream could make for him. Submission came freely, could never be forced. He was a Decepticon, not a glitched spark-robber. He wasn't tainted, for frag's sake.  
  
The ache turned into pain and Starscream hissed quietly. Slag, but he'd fragged up so bad...  
  
Megatron had come to him and he'd been _afraid_. Had Starscream known why, he'd never have let this happen. He'd never have taken Megatron. He... he hadn't known! Couldn't have known, hadn't been told, and when he'd finally understood it had been too late to stop. He drew a trembling intake, tried to even it out, tried to soothe his spark.  
  
If he was right about what had happened to Megatron, then he'd hurt the old bot. He gritted his denta, curling his hands in rage. With their rivalry and their past, he'd all but forced Megaron into his berth. Him and his reckless, foolish schemes! Mind-games meant to make their stay on Earth bearable, to gain power, only this time his schemes had made Megatron to come to him, and the old bot had been _terrified_...  
  
He growled and the sound made his own wings tremble. _Somebot_ had taken liberties with Megatron. Somebot, Primus have mercy on his glitched spark, had _dared_ to touch Megatron. No wonder he'd been so off...  
  
No wonder he'd been so cut off, behaving so weirdly.  
  
Megatron stirred beneath him and Starscream lifted his head to study the battle-worn face. He looked so peaceful, seemingly at ease. He rested a hand on Megatron's chassis and soaked in the warmth coming from below. Megatron was so vulnerable. If Starscream wanted him dead, now was the perfect moment. He swallowed hard, caught between sweetest victory and a maddening need to protect him. It tore him apart.  
  
With a soft sigh, he lay down again.  
  
There was another day tomorrow. A day in which he would tear the 'verse apart to find the mech who'd forced himself on Megatron. He would find the sick glitch, he vowed, and he would tear his head from his frame. It would be a fitting peace-offering. Starscream kissed Megatron's brand and felt peace for the first time in ages.  
  
Yes... Tomorrow he would turn the world upside-down, but tonight he would guard Megatron's sleep, and keep him safe from a creature no longer worthy to be seen or treated like a bot.  
  
  



	5. Dirty Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is no such thing as a coincidence, and everything is connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional warnings: spiked drinks.

In the darkness, a secured comm. channel suddenly came to life. Activated and recalibrated for one mech alone, it rang over and over again. The noise went unnoticed by everybot in the base, save for Starscream, who murmured and tossed his helm in sleep.  
  
The constant demand for attention bled into his subconciousness and assaulted his dreams until a throng of well-hidden files were reached. He turned, suddenly restless, and sank into the mememory they brought...  
  
*~*~*  
  
Another beating in front of the army had driven Starscream away from the base. He was quietly seething, humiliation making his armour crawl. There was nobot around to see the disgusted sneer on his face. He scowled at the rocky terrain and stomped along, moving towards the horizon and its distant mountains. There were no human settlements around, but he couldn't comfirm it. His readings didn't come out right, seemed broken. Filled with static. He wondered if Megatron's last kick to his helm had somehow impaired his ability to scan his whereabouts.  
  
He growled under his breath – his sensors were _useless_ , faring not much better than his left thruster. Flying would have to wait, and that annoyed him more than anything else. He had brought no tools along, and would therefore have to rely on his self-repair kicking in. His HUD gave him the expected time-stamp and he fisted his hands – two solar rotations grounded?!  
  
Starscream spent a few good kliks' worth telling the world what he thought of both that and Megatron in general. How _dare_ he? How dare Megatron damage what kept him airborne?! Slag him to the Pit and back! Anger did not cover what Starscream felt – the old fool had aimed and viciously hit a thruster. Not a wing, but a _thruster_. It had clearly been a deliberate hit too, and meant to remind him of whom held all the power. A blatant warning.  
  
”Suck slag, Megatron,” Starscream growled, favouring his left thruster as he moved slowly towards the mountains.  
  
Ranting out of his system, he felt marginally better. He sighed theatrically and rubbed his face tiredly. After a beat, he looked at his whereabouts with suspicion etched into his features. No bot in sight didn't mean they weren't around. It meant they could be hiding. He looked up and watched the sky with narrowed optics. Skywarp and Soundwave would find him quickly enough if they really wanted to. He had little use for that, and unless he found cover soon enough, he would be forced back by the lackeys. Megatron would have given the order by now, surely.  
  
And yet, unable to detect organic or Cybertronian signals, he was left with few options. The mountains ahead would have to do. The area was isolated, too hot for the disgusting flesh-bags to fertilise. Rocky, and far enough away from the Autobot lair. He frowned and tried to reach out again, hurling his sensors out, but was met with more static and little else.  
  
Slag it..!  
  
He kicked a rock and watched it roll away, huffing in annoyance. So much for that. He was starting to hope that something else but Megatron's fists was disturbing his readings, because being blind sucked rust. He was sure Megatron would love to see him now, all grounded and tactically wounded. So would the rest of the army, which was why he was here, in the middle of nowhere. He'd been in a hurry when leaving the base, not even noticing his wounds. They were mostly superficial anyway, but the trouble had started when he'd left and tried to transform. It ended with him almost getting stuck in mid-air, and then there was only desert. In his _mouth_.  
  
The impact hadn't actually hurt him. Skywarp's laughter had followed him all the way out of the base and that stung far more than any wound. His trine-mate's mirth was yet another reason to curse Megatron. And he _wasn't_ fleeing – he was removing himself from the situation. He had nothing but the old bot's glitched logic chip to fear, no matter what Skywarp thought. He huffed again and rolled his shoulders, faceplates burning with anger and embarrassement both. What was done was done, and he'd punched Megatron first anyway.  
  
A small victory, perhaps, but a satisfactory one.  
  
The silence made him wonder over the area he'd ended up in. There was no one around, and here he'd been walking for hours. Static still clottered his comm. channels, even now. He wondered whether there was a natural explanation to why he couldn't find a signal, or if it was something man-made. Could be Autobot-fabricated, of course. It wasn't Decepticon engineering. It might be alien, but natural seemed like the better option. Either way, he hoped that it went both ways – if he couldn't find a signal, then neither would the Autobots. And if the Autofools couldn't get to him, then he was safe from Megatron.  
  
He hadn't left by choice. Annoying Megatron was dangerous, and provoking him downright lethal. This time he hadn't been able to stop himself from screaming in the old fool's face. Hitting him had felt good, but even then the old fool refused to get it. They could leave. They could find another solution than using up this stupid world's resources, and just slaggin' leave! But, no. Optimus Prime was here, and Megatron itched to get rid of the Autobots' fabled leader. As long as the Prime was around, Megatron would never start using his processor.  
  
It _disgusted_ him.  
  
It also made him irrationally jealous.  
  
In what world did he have a chance of proving himself worthy, if Megatron only desired the death of that oaf? Killing a bot was easy. Killing the Prime was almost impossible. He had tried to figure out how to do it, because he was bored at times. To kill a Prime... One would have to crawl in under the Prime's armour, pass right through his defenses. Starscream wanted him dead, or gone, at any cost. Optimus Prime was a rival, after all, and he'd never liked those. Unless they were Soundwave, who'd understood how to make Starscream enjoy him.  
  
”Concentrate,” he sneered at himself, banishing every thought of Soundwave from his processor. He couldn't let his mind wander like that, not when he had work to do. He moved faster, keeping his optics on his chosen destination. Almost there now. The mountains were just a few kliks away, a perfect hideaway until his thruster had healed. The landscape rose high above sea-level, reaching into the sky with formations of rocks, all gnarled and twisted. At least they broke the monotonous, boring view.  
  
”Suitable,” Starscream murmured and set out to find cover.  
  
*~*~*  
  
It took longer than he'd expected. _Of course it would_ , he thought testily as he stumbled around in the darkness. He didn't want to use anything that would require more fuel, and between keeping himself in check and having no functional proximity sensors, he was blind as a mole. Whatever that was, he added sourly. At least he'd gotten known with the terrain.  
  
His thruster was all right, but still not in shape for him to transform and get the slag out of plain view. Dust had gotten into his seams, into his vents. He hissed, refusing to think of the whole ordeal as a failure. He heard those words often enough as it was. He was not a failure. He just didn't share Megatron's stupid view of leadership. When _he_ was leader-  
  
”Wait! This... I don't...”  
  
Starscream stopped moving, a thruster poised in mid-air. He drew a hissing intake and pulled back into the shadows, almost stumbling into the ground. Slag! There was someone else here as well? He swore silently and glanced up, hoping the moon wouldn't reveal him. He was glad to see it hidden behind a thick cloud. It wouldn't stay so for a long while, though. He was suddenly thankful for the amount of disformed rocks that offered him enough of gloom and shadows to disapear in.  
  
”I said _wait,_ slaggit!”  
  
As soon as he'd made sure he wouldn't be seen, his processor started asking questions. The area was abandoned, desolate. He tilted his helm, analysing the situation, thinking fast. He needed to get closer to get a proper view of the speaker. It wasn't a flesh-bag, their vocals didn't have that pitch. And he knew it wasn't a Decepticon either – he knew all the bots in the base. But since it wasn't a 'Con, then it could only be an Autobot. A _protesting_ Autobot at that.  
  
Interesting.  
  
He moved slowly forward, trying to locate where the noise came from. He had the nagging sensation that he knew the speaker. He made a face. That would be rich, being accused of consorting with the enemy. Megatron would love to throw that around, wouldn't he? _Glitch_. So, here was an Autobot he'd punched more than once, all alone... Wait, not alone – he could hear a second bot, moving quickly forward. He shook his helm. What would Autobots be doing here, in the middle of the night? It made no sense.  
  
A low, guttural snarl came out of nowhere. Starscream's optics widened, and he froze as the sound reached the deepest levels of his programming. The instinct to flee arose within him – so did the maddened desire to attack the snarling bot. Aggression won the shortlived conflict, as his coding foretold, and his wings flared in response. He bared his denta, spark pulsing erratically in his cockpit whilst his battle-protocols were aligned. He raised his arms, base-coding howling in the back of his processor. Just one small step-  
  
 _No_.  
  
He wrestled himself for dominance and won, forcing his frame to stay put. His processor raced. That... How? How had that second bot had managed to activate his base-coding just by snarling? He could feel the thrum in his systems mirror his emotions, and frankly it surprised him. Megatron was the only bot who'd ever managed to force such a reaction from him. He checked his HUD. Oh, yeah. His base-coding was _definitely_ alive and kicking. It clawed at him, demanded to be released. It wanted him to hurl himself into a battle of dominance, couldn't care less whom he might be facing. All that mattered was that _he_ was the-  
  
Starscream bit his glossa, the sharp pain cutting through the haze of mindless violence. He used the  pain to master himself and forced the blind instinct back to the depths of his coding. Next he uncurled his hands and lowered his shoulders, allowing his tense wings to relax. He dunked his helm against the wall, drawing deep intakes. Slag... He'd almost lost it, had almost got himself into trouble. Who the slag was it?  
  
”No, I won't. You came to _me_...”   
  
Starscream narrowed his optics and grimaced. His armour crawled with unleashed aggression at the sound of those taunting vocals. He raked through his memory files for a matching ID, but none came up. Perfect, just... perfect. In the case of a confrontation, he would have no data on the bot in question. That meant falling back on hasty calculations. He didn't like that one bit. He growled under his breath and checked the Autobot instead – that one ought to be easy enough. He got a hit immediately and found himself cursing silently. Him, _really?_ He remembered their last meeting, and it _wasn't_ a pleasure. The cog-sucker deserved a blast in the face and little else.  
  
The unknown mech spoke again. ”You like it, don't you? The danger, feeling all trapped...”  
   
He got Starscream's full attention at that. Unknown or not – the mech had just about said everything Starscream needed to know about him. He was a little bit too sure about himself, for starters, and he was playing foul. Here was a mech who knew he would get what he wanted, when he wanted, and _how_ he wanted it. His tone, far too playful to keep the game fair, implied as much.  
  
 _Takes one to know one,_ Starscream thought wearily. He would know, seeing he heard that tone from his own lips often enough.  
  
”I d-don't know,” the Autobot responded, and Starscream could hear how his resolution waver. He was obviously attracted to the mech, but he was afraid as well. He was being made to give in, and skilfully so. It showed in the way he stuttered, in how meek and breathless his words came. He was ready to be pushed over his limits.  
  
 _You better get out,_ Starscream silently told his enemy, hands curled into fists. _Unless you are willing to get manhandled or damaged, foolish Autobot. Don't you recognise the nature of the game you've got yourself into?_ It took a predator to know one, and Starscream felt his programming respond to the chuckle that followed in the wake of that stutter. He held his reactions at bay this time, reminded himself that he'd mastered his own monster long ago. He was more than just base-coding nowadays. The Autobot further ahead, however, clearly had no idea what he was playing with.  
  
”Then why are you resisting me?”  
  
” _I don't know!_ ”   
  
The shout still echoed when Starscream decided he'd heard enough. He should leave now, and find  another hiding spot until his thruster was healed. He should, really. So why was he checking his weapon system now again? And he _definitely_ should ignore how the mech's arrogant laughter made his hackles rise. It wasn't his problem, for frag's sake! But, he obviously was planning to go and have a look at the fragger anyway. While he tried to figure out where they were, he asked himself, for the tenth time alreay, how come they hadn't noticed him. He was close enough to have his signals read, wasn't he? Unless...  
  
A slow smirk spread across his face, followed by a look of relief. Unless _their_ proximity sensors were glitching as well.  
  
He pressed himself flat against the walls as shadows suddenly danced all over the area. Wait, were they moving over this way? Or were they on the rocks above? He craned his neck, trying to see if they were on the rocky formations looming over him. The place was a maze, he realised with a sense of dread. They could be anywhere, and there was no use in trying to pinpoint their locations, since both sounds and signals came back all distorted. He was just about to take another route when the Autobot shouted again, breaking the silence. The shout was followed by the sound of somebot being pinned to the ground. He heard a low yelp, then a muffled wail.  
  
Starscream grimaced and looked to the side, glaring at the rocky ground. It was none of his business, what was to happen. It wasn't a fellow Decepticon. It wasn't an ally. It wasn't anybot he could use for his own designs, either. And he didn't owe that oaf _anything_. He could be slagged for all Starscream cared. At least he tried to tell himself as much. He drew a deep intake and ignored the doubts in his spark, forcing the shameful sensation away. All he wanted was to get a proper look at the stranger, and that was it. He wasn't here to save the glitch or anything.  
  
He was getting close now. He could hear them wrestle on the ground. Just a few turns and he would be there, surely. He wondered what the Pit he was supposed to do once he actually got there. He wanted to get a proper look at the mech who'd made his base-coding act up, but that wasn't all, wasn't it...? He rubbed his face, sneering at his own stupidity. It was just an Autobot, a stupid grounder at that! But he couldn't ignore the grunts and pained yelps, and he couldn't pretend he didn't care either. A particulary loud sob made his wings shoot straight up.

 _That's it,_ he thought. _Enough of this._ It wasn't right, what he was hearing. His logic chip seethed, telling him he was a Decepticon, not a bleedin' hero, but he couldn't care any less. _You are going to regret this,_ it told hims as it realised what he was about to do. _Fool,_ he spat at himself. _He won't thank you and you can't fly! You are going to end up in the scrap-heap!  
_  
One step at the time, he managed to get himself just around a boulder, his spark pulsing like mad in his cockpit. What if he was wrong? What if this was some kinky little game? It wouldn't be the first time a couple of bots liked it rough. The shadows played with his optics, and he found himself leaning against the boulder, shaking slightly. There was nothing but a large rock between them now, and he wondered if he truly had lost his processor. They weren't talking anymore, but what he was hearing wasn't love-making. It was too rough, too painful.  
  
He knew the Autobot had wanted it to end before it even started. Some bots wanted to be pushed, but he... He knew the dynamics of such games, and this was all wrong. They weren't as far as interfacing, though. He could stop it for the Autobot before it got out of control. _Lovely,_ he thought sourly. _I've become an Autobot._ But there was nothing else he could do. He drew a huge intake and activated to his battle-protocols, lighting the night up as he climbed the boulder and shot the ground in front of the wrestling mechs.  
  
”What have we here... A _love_ -nest?” His vocals were sickly sweet as he spoke, pretending to not care and acting as if nothing was amiss. The Autobot's optics were wide with sudden recognition and fear. ”I suggest you... Yes, _you_ ,” he told the yellow idiot as he pushed the larger mech away and got onto his pedes. ”I suggest you get the slag out of here before I send you howling into Well of All Sparks.”  
  
 _Don't stay,_ he begged the Autobot with his optics. _Just go!_ The mech stared at him, unable to understand how Starscream was giving him a way out. He sighed and aimed a null-ray at his pedes and shot. The fragger got the gist and backed,  giving the other bot a frightened look before transforming and leaving the crime scene. The sound of his engines left Starscream in a state of daze. He'd... he'd actually done that. He'd acted as if the oaf was a grunt under his command and protection both. His optics widened as he realised what that meant.  
  
 _All right_ , he told his base-coding. _I wasn't expecting that. Any other surprises in there you'd like to inform me about?  
  
_ He feigned arrogance, crossing his arms as he turned his helm to the unknown mech. He'd been so busy getting the stupid oaf out of his sight that he hadn't given the big mech a glance. When he did, his spark missed a beat and froze in place.  
  
”Well, this is awkward,” he muttered, not believing his optics. The big mech was watching him with stark blue optics, looming even though Starscream was the one higher up. He felt the damage in his thruster more than ever.  
  
”Starscream,” the glitch said, optics narrowed. He had the look of a bot having been robbed from something he very much wanted. He hadn't even drawn his weapons, but he didn't need them, never had. Both knew who held the upper hand were they to come to blows.  
  
”You sound different,” Starscream said, his tone accusing. ”How was I supposed to know _you_ were the one...” He frowned, tapping his toes on the ground, more flustered than annoyed. ”Well, what was I supposed to do? Your playmate didn't seem very willing, and I didn't recognise... Is that a vocoder you are using?”  
  
”This is _none_ -”  
  
”None of my business, yeah I know,” Starscream huffed, wings hiked high. His thruster ached, and he was doing his best to stay civil. Ugh, why did these things happen to him, again? He gave the mech a searching look, as if seeing him for the first time. ”Aren't you afraid of the consequences? He has a brother, you know.”  
  
”He's my friend,” the big bot said, crossing his arms. His engines were growling softly. It was highly distracting. He pulled his full height and slag, that was a lot. He was clearly trying to intimidate him.  
  
 _Slag that.  
_  
Starscream sneered at him, putting his hands on his hips. ” _Friend_ , my aft. Who are you trying to fool here? _I'm_ the Decepticon, and I know a bad bot when I see him. Are you sure you picked the right faction?”  
  
The glitch growled and stepped forward. Starscream panicked, but he would be damned if he let it show. He bared his denta and aimed true. ”Don't even think about it,” he warned. ”I'm willing to keep my mouth shut about this, but don't think you can pull the same stunt with me as you did with that little toy of yours. Touch me,” he hissed, ”and I'll rip your spark out!”  
  
When the bot stayed put, Starscream gave him a slow and lazy smirk, nodding graciously. He swayed his hips, playing coy. He didn't lower his guns. ”See...? Much better,” he purred. ”Now, let's start again, shall we?”  
  
He had to think fast, because the moment the oaf thought he had the upper hand, Starscream would be eating dust for a second time this rotation. The Autobot was watching him with intense optics, no doubt calculating the odds. They were against Starscream, of course, but that could be changed. He kept his gaze and pulled a cube from subspace. ”Catch!”  
  
Good reflexes, Starscream thought as the mech grabbed the cube in mid-air. He sat down, long legs dangling, swinging playfully. He retrieved a cube of his own, turning it between his hands before opening it. He gave the Autobot a searching look, tilting his helm. ”Never knew you had it in you,” he said after a deep draught. ”Could have fooled me. Huh... If I'd known, all those years ago?” He grinned. ”Perhaps things would have worked out differently.”  
  
 _Come on,_ he thought, feeling the urge to kick that handsome face in. _Play along, you evil glitch. You know you want to...  
_  
”You are being very friendly,” the bot told him. He was trying to keep it short, but Starscream knew a thing or two about predators, and waited him out. He didn't disappoint, his tall enemy. ”What makes you think I will let you walk out of this?”  
  
Starscream crossed his legs and smirked knowingly. ”Because I caught you and saw your true colours, and you are asking yourself if I'd be easy to manipulate into rough play. You are calculating the odds, tasting the air for my fear. You are thinking 'Will he flee, will he fight, or will he give in?' And, if you aren't, then you are curious and confused, perhaps even a little worried.”  
  
 _There_.  
  
A slight widening of those optics, hidden behind a sneer. The mech sat down, looking up at Starscream, obviously at ease. It was a lie, all of it. He was worried, but also interested. ”Worried? What makes you think I'm worried?”  
  
”Oh, I don't know,” Starscream sneered back. ”You have never been caught before, I assume. I mean, they think you are such a pure little spark... I wonder what that poor fragger will think now. I wonder if you'll be able to get him for some 'happy time' or if he'll be hiding from you. Aaah, that will be quite bothersome, won't it? It's a small ship, after all...”  
  
”Cut that out,” the big bot growled. ”What do you want?”  
  
Starscream threw his helm back and laughed, partly hysterical. Once done, he put the cube down, and rested his elbows on his knees. ”What _I_ want? I thought it was the other way around,” he said, gesturing with both his hands. ”You are the big, bad Autobot and I'm the unlucky Decepticon in your way. We both know who has the control here, don't pretend otherwise.”  
  
”You are right,” the mech said blandly, lifting the cube to his lips. ”I could still slag you, and then all of this would be over. Nobot would miss you, Starscream.”  
  
”But it would be such a waste,” Starscream replied with a lazy smile, allowing his face to become softer. He was a pretty mech by any standard, and he knew how to use it. ”Do it and you'll be alone with a terrible secret. You always were such an _Autobot_... It will eat at your spark, will fill you with shame, with a thirst that never ends. And you will look for others that trust you, and you will damage them because you don't know how to control it.”  
  
He had him now. The bot was staring at him, optics round, and Starscream knew he would walk out of this alive. He drew a deep intake and jumped down, startling the Autobot onto his pedes. Starscream walked forward and stood before him, spark shrieking in his cockpit. He looked up and  put a hand on the broad chassis, smiled sweetly. He felt small like this, but he had no choice but to go on, playing a high-risk game with his own life.  
  
”Why don't you let me live,” he murmured, ”and I come to you the next time you need it? I could be your little, dirty secret. If it makes you feel better, call it a cross-faction act of diplomacy. We could even pretend that I'll let myself be devoured, and you could fool yourself into thinking I will leave the ranks for you. How about,” he whispered, pulling the bot down into an almost-kiss, ”you _enjoy_ me instead of killing me?”  
  
Strong arms slid around him and Starscream forced his intakes to remain calm. If he survived, he would use the bot for his own schemes. He was already seeing the benefits he could draw out of such a liason. Diplomacy it was not, but he was offering the glitch a tempting offer. The fool would no doubt dream about taming him, and would be hungry for every little show of submission. Starscream let his wings lower and pressed himself against the mech, sighing sweetly. It was an act, but a good one. It would have fooled Soundwave.  
  
”You will come,” the mech whispered against his audios, ”because you are bored out of your processor. Megatron never knew you, not the _real_ you. Not like I do... Mmm, I think you will come when I call because I'm not the only one addicted to danger. You _will_ come,” the glitch purred and for a moment Starscream felt desire, ”because if not, I will personally hunt you down.”  
  
Starscream laughed, this time for real. ”Perhaps, perhaps not” he said with a wicked tone. He pushed the large mech of away. ”Go now. They will come for me, and I don't need to be seen with the likes of you, _Autobot_. I'm in trouble as it is.”  
  
He could see the cogs turn in the Autobot's processor. If Starscream was lying, he would keep the upper hand and use what he'd seen as it fit him. If Starscream _wasn't_ lying... Aaah, that was too good to let go of, wasn't it? Starscream had him now. He offered the mech a good look of what he could sample and wasn't surprised when the glitch grabbed him and kissed him hard. He snarled and kissed him back, pouring all his fury into the kiss, channeling his nature through it. He bit the plump lower lip, suckled it, and rubbed himself against the bigger mech, half-tempted to do more than just that.  
  
When he let go, his faceplates were flushed several shades darker. He looked perfectly ravished, and it was a good look for him. The Autobot stroked his hips with possessive hands, optics dimmed, his gaze cold enough to burn. Starscream smirked knowingly, stepping away from his hold, breaking whatever control the fool thought he had.  
  
”Call me,” he said, giving the son of a Quint a secured line that would take him straight through whatever firewalls Soundwave put up. When the bot saw how encripted the line was, he raised his optic-ridges, but chose not to comment on it. He then nodded, turned, and left Starscream behind, steps echoing in the night.  
  
*~*~*  
  
 _Go away,_ Starscream grumbled, still half asleep. He tried to turn the slagging comm. off, but it just wouldn't shut up. He was sick and tired of dealing with the constant demand for attention and unwanted calls. Those had increased the last year or so, mainly because he wasn't answering. Even in his sleep he recognised a pattern, and he knew what awaited – a dance that would, no doubt, end very very bad...  
  
 _Just shut up,_ he murmured, and slept again.  
  
*~*~*  
  
They didn't meet often or regularly enough for Soundwave to take notice, but when the secured line rang he would find one or another excuse to leave the base.  
  
It was, without a doubt, the hardest thing Starscream had ever done. Not even _Megatron_ dared to make demands on his time, but nevertheless – a promise was a promise, and he came when called. Those first times had left his processor reeling. It was a constant battle of wills, seeing neither of them would give the other an inch of control. Starscream wasn't fooled by those large optics, and the glitch watched his back around him. The mech was corrupted. Sooner or later, he would find Starscream's weakness and use it against him. It was just a matter of time.  
  
Starscream played the bot, allowing himself to be grabbed, held and pinned down. The only reason it never ended badly was because Starscream was a master in the art of manipulation. He encouraged the glitch, asking for those demanding kisses and rough caresses. _He_ was in control, something the other mech failed to understand. He read the bot's moods and used his frame to keep him sweet, even if he drew the line at 'facing. _That_ , he decided, would be his last resort.  
  
Over time, it became a sport of sorts.  
  
The Autobot, demanding as he was, seemed to enjoy his company. Starscream was mildly surprised – he'd never had someone to crave his company. It was a novelty. Had he been a foolish mech, he might have fallen into the well-laid trap. He reckoned the Autobot had replaced the yellow terror with him, trying to make him feel all special. Too bad Starscream saw through him, and knew it was all part of his twisted little game. He turned the tables, and pretended to buy it. And so he started telling the glitch amusing little stories of his own. After that they often spoke, revealing secrets and little quirks, and later on, kinks as well. Things started to get dangerous after that.  
  
Starscream liked to think that he had the upper hand, but it was hard to tell. The danger kept him on his toes. Autobot or not, the glitch had serious behavioural problems. The lack of self-control was bad enough. He never lost it in battle, not really. Starscream had seen his strength, had always known it was something to fear. The real danger lay in the Autobot's wish to, without consent, dominate a lover. Had he been under Starscream's command, he'd have been forced into solitary and put through some serious defragging. Hook and Soundwave would have been tasked with figuring out where it had all gone wrong, because a mech like that was a ticking bomb. But, he wasn't Starscream's grunt, and therefore he was the Autobot command's problem to deal with.  
  
A year or so passed.  
  
Their meetings grew more frequent, and Starscream started to relax. They seldom spoke politics, but gossiped plenty. Things weren't a dance over at the enemy camp, and Starscream smirked as he was told all those juicy little details. He made sure to add the tasty morsels to the increasing amount of non-combat related tabs he had on every Autobot. He would have a use for it, no matter how insignificant his foolish lover thought it was. The smallest thing could give him the upper hand in the battle-field, after all.

  
The kisses deepened, the caresses gradually became more heated and demanding. The glitch knew better than to push his luck, and Starscream never lowered his guard. They silently agreed upon not killing each other, not just yet.  
  
The stalemate held until the glitch brought him high-quality booze.  
  
Starscream had never liked oil. Seekers were lucky, because Megatron had always made sure they had the best fuel. They needed it, but energon was still a treat. If he'd ever had resistence, that was long ago and before the war. So, when a cube of aged high-grade was pushed into his hand, he drank it all. He had another cube, just because he could. The Autobot drank too, but surely slower than Starscream. The energon was potent, spiked with delicious additives. Before long, he was overcharged, playing straight into the scum's hands.  
  
He still didn't remember much of that evening. Oh, he remembered the pleasure – acute and almost painful, but exquisite enough to make his toes point. The Autobot was drunk enough, whispering dirty things into his audios whilst he fucked Starscream into the ground. Starscream had quite enjoyed himself, spreading his thighs for the very first time. He welcomed the hard thrusts, arching against his glitching lover. Drunk, and not a little aggressive, he let some of his true nature shine through. It hadn't been planned, but the energon had overrun his higher processsor functions. He gave just as good as he got, and the sound of those powerful engines sent his sensors into an alarming level of bliss.  
  
”I wonder,” the Autobot hissed, slamming ruthlessly into his valve, ”how it would feel to break you in. What would it take to tame you, Starscream?”  
  
”Don't be foolish,” Starscream snapped, bucking as big hands pushed him down. He licked and viciously bit the glitch's neck. ”You can't own _me._ I would kill you before letting you tame me. That is for other bots. If you want me,” he purred, rolling his hips lazily, ”you _court_ me.”  
  
”Hah, you would be such a difficult little toy,” the Autobot growled, grinding hard. ”All high-maintenance, aren't you? And what would you demand of me?”  
  
” _Everything_ ,” Starscream groaned. ”I would never be sated with less than that, you big oaf. I want it all, and there's nothing you can do about it. But I wonder... How far would you go to please me, being the good little Autobot _you_ fail to be.”  
  
A sharp thrust made him yowl and he scratched the Autobot in revenge. He snarled at his lover and bit his jaw, drawing energon. He latched onto it, suckling until the mech groaned and resumed that Primus-forsaken rolling of his hips. Starscream was overheating, aaah, he was drunk too, but it felt so good, so _fraggin' good_...  
  
”Indulge me,” the bot purred into his lips. ”Tell me what would make you mine – that one thing you desire the most, and I will give it to you, no matter how impossible. Mmm, and if it's something good, I might give it to you again, and again, and again.”  
  
Starscream shook as he laughed breathlessly. He let himself be manhandled, his processor far too stimulated to protest. The glitch suddenly grabbed his wrists and forced them above his helm. He was drunk, spread open and held down, pinned to the ground like a common whore. He bared his denta and hissed, lifting his aft of the ground. He met those maddening deep thrusts half-way, taking the punishing pleasure and demanding more. The Autobot scum ground into him, placated by his actions.  
  
”Tell me what would make you mine,” the glitch whispered, watching him with burning optics. He loomed over Starscream and hiked his thighs over his broad shoulders. Starscream's vents whined, and he threw his helm back, crying out as the glitch proceeded to fuck his processor into oblivion. ” _Tell_ _me_ ,” the son of a Quint demanded.  
  
He was overcharged and out of control. The aged energon, so very potent, had muddled his processor, burnt his resistance away. Pleasure kept him dazed. He curled into his crazed lover and licked the bot's face savagely, tightening around the thick spike. What _would_ it take? What did he desire that much, what did he need that bad? He shouted at a particulary well-aimed thrust and arched, on the verge of coming. He panted, desperate to reach his peak, but his overload was being held hostage.  
  
Starscream snarled, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. It was wrong, what he wanted, so very wrong, but every stabbing thrust robbed him of his will, and slag it, but he _couldn't_ -  
  
He gave in.  
  
”Megatron,” he hissed, snarling in his lover's face. ”I want Megatron! I want him on his knees before me, calling me _Master_.... I want him to serve me, begging me to dominate him. I want him trained, just for me! I want him stripped of his authority. I want him to serve me as my leader and slave both! I... I want him to accept his programming!”  
  
”His what...?” The Autobot's optics widened before they dimmed. ”He's _submissive_ _?_ Now, that's what I call a treat,” the mad bot purred. ”It makes sense now, all of it. Mmm... He should be bound and shackled. Humiliated, whipped, made less than a leader.” He fucked Starscream without mercy, so hard it hurt _._ The pleasure grew into a tight ball of pain-laced bliss, spreading from the centre of Starscream's being. The Autobot grabbed his helm and kissed him hard, growling. ” _Mine_...”  
  
Starscream was coming within a nano-klik. He wailed, frame taut as his valve gripped and pulsed around the invading spike. He barely heard how the glitch came, whispering all those dirty little things over and over again. Starscream heard Megatron's designation uttered with such desperate need that it made him laugh in the middle of his overload. _Yeah, don't we all dream about him,_ he thought, all delirious, as second overload hurled him helm first into stasis.  
 _  
_When he woke up, all he found was another cube, and on top of it, a note. It read:  
  
 _I enjoyed you very much. You behaved like a good little drone. The cube is yours. I'll call you later.  
  
_ Starscream gaped. He read the note again, then hissed and got onto his thrusters. He spat onto the ground, feeling dirty. He'd... He'd been treated like a pleasure drone! He'd even got paid for his services. Slag him. _Slag_. _Him_. How dare he...? He crushed the small pad between his fingers and stared at the sky. He tried to access to his memory files and found them lacking. He frowned, tried again, but all that came back to him was the body-memory of fierce and stinging pleasure. It didn't match up, made him suspicious.  
  
Carefully as not to destroy the sample, he took the cube. His optics narrowed. He would analyse it, and if he found anything else than potent energon in it, he would _kill_ the Autobot.  
  
He subspaced the cube and kicked dirt over the remains of the pad. His pride had taken a shot, and the worst was that he couldn't remember if he'd said or done something stupid. He growled, looking down at himself, cringing at the sight of dried transfluid on his thighs. Oh, yeah. He'd been stupid, all right. He shook his helm and jumped, transforming in one go. He would stay in the base for a while, perhaps get a new project. He would entertain himself with making Megatron's life pure hell, as usual. He would pretend this had never happen, and wouldn't answer any incoming call.  
  
It was _over_.  
  
Whatever it had been, it was now officially over.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Starscream awoke to the sound of that hated comm. link again. He drew a deep intake and smashed the connection, adding yet another firewall. He'd been so sure he'd disconnected it, but he must have forgotten about it last night. He'd been exhausted after...  
  
 _Megatron.  
_  
That woke him up form the sleepy haze, and everything else but the warlord was forgotten. He felt Megatron's arms around his waist, just below his wings. He didn't dare to move, but the steady thrum of Megatron's engines, the warmth of his chassis, drew him closer. He shifted slightly and hid his face against Megatron's neck, allowing himself a precious moment of peace. He would need every inch of self-control today, when talking to Megatron.  
  
He didn't know what he could expect from now on. He didn't know what he could expect from now on. Things had been said, had been put right. Now they just needed to have that talk. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it. If it backfired, the damage would be too much to bear. He shuttered his optics and nuzzled the sleeping mech, sighing softly. Only time would show how this would affect their current relationship, but Starscream wasn't in a hurry to figure it out. The way Megatron held onto him felt good, and he didn't want to move at all.  
  
The gentle rising and falling of his leader's strong chassis lulled him almost back to sleep, and his spark pulsed in conflict. _Perhaps it will work out this time,_ he thought wistfully. _Perhaps he won't hate me, perhaps he won't try to beat me into submission.  
_  
It all depended on how Megatron felt about... this. Them. He didn't want the old bot to worry about him – Megatron had his own issues and problems to deal with. Starscream knew more than one mech who'd been through what Megatron had been forced to endure, and the wounds never really healed. From now on, he decided, he would give Megatron what he'd never had before – his loyalty. He would keep Megatron's back for him, guard him in his sleep. It was his duty, had always been his duty until...  
  
Until he'd proved he wasn't ready to be _anybot's_ master, let alone Megatron's. Everything had gone horribly wrong from that moment on in his life. He sighed softly. Could things be unmade? Would they change? Did he actually want them to? He was out of his comfort zone, threading into unknown territory. Megatron would be confused if he behaved like a loyal grunt, and the last thing he wanted was to upset the old bot... It would be dangerous, foolish, but he'd claimed his leader as his own and could not let him down.  
  
Out there, a bot was celebrating having gotten away with a foul act. That glitch needed to be put down fast before another bot was attacked. He frowned, feeling the urge to get up and work his way through the databases. He needed facts from the journals Soundwave and Hook kept. He had the  security clearance for them, being Megatron's right hand. It would be a lot of work, of course, but he had no choice but to keep everybot under suspicion. Everybot in the station could be guilty, save for Soundwave and Hook, of course. He would aproach them and there would be words. Many of them infact. Perhaps even a punch.  
  
Glitches, both of them, keeping him in the dark like that.  
  
Megatron suddenly stirred and Starscream lifted his helm. The old mech rebooted slowly, seemed almost sluggish. He looked exhausted, even after a full night's sleep. Starscream wondered how long he'd gone without a proper recharge. Megatron met his optics, slowly coming to his senses. The silence was charged with too many things left unsaid. Starscream wanted to ask him so many things – all related to the rape, but that would be a breach of courtesy. If Megatron wanted to tell him, he would. By demanding answers, he would leave Megatron no choice but to recoil.  
  
The old bot hadn't moved an inch. His optics were bright, questioning. Starscream made sure to lay very still. He drew a slow intake, then: ”Do you want me to move away?”  
  
Had Megatron ever been this cautious? His leader had never been careful, nor had he searched for the right words. Starscream found himself missing the angry, barely controlled mech he kept trying to usurp. He _knew_ that mech. The bot looking up at him was a stranger. Starscream knew Megatron had been forced to submit. He'd been wounded, made different from the brute both had known all too well. But he was a strong mech, and didn't reek of weakness. His spark pulsed as strong as ever, defying what his optics revealed. Starscream tilted his helm, waited for an answer. When he had given up on it, Megatron spoke up.  
  
”No. It's quite comfortable.”  
  
Starscream gave Megatron a slow nod. He kept his tone light, friendly even. ”I agree. Your frame is warmer than mine. And, unless my glorious leader is famished, I suggest lying in berth until Soundwave sounds the alarms.”  
  
Megatron lifted an optic ridge. ”And why would he do that?”  
  
”Because you aren't where you are supposed to be, Lord Megatron, and these chambers are telepath-safe,” Starscream replied with a bratty smirk. He put his helm down, resting it against Megatron's shoulder. This felt nice.  
  
Megatron chuckled. ”And no bot would imagine I'd be sharing your berth, I assume. Very well, Starscream. Proceed.”  
  
Leave it to Megatron to make a suggenstion sound like a command. Starscream made a face, planting small kisses along Megatron's shoulder and neck. He gave Megatron plenty of time to move away, and when the old bot didn't, he gently licked his neck. A klik passed, and then Megatron's hands were on his wings. Starscream fanned his wings and Megatron sighed, rubbing the edges. His touch was almost awkward, but Starscream figured his leader was having difficulties adapting to the current situation. Starscream didn't bother to think too much. Thinking would come later, all that mattered now was to help Megatron relax.  
  
It seemed like Megatron didn't share his ability to erase unnecessary thoughts. Starscream felt him tense, and ceased to kiss his neck. He lay his helm down, watching the walls. Megatron stopped moving after a moment. His intakes were slow, all measured, tightly controlled.  
  
”I can hear those cogs turning,” Starscream murmured. ”What's wrong, old bot?”  
  
” _Why_ aren't you gloating?”  
  
He sighed. ”Do you want me to?”  
  
Megatron shifted and Starscream knew the moment he'd dreaded had come. He drew a slow intake and followed Megatrons' unspoken wish, carefully rolling off his frame. He lay on his front, a wing covering most of Megatron's upper body. He rested his helm on his arms and watched his leader with a nervous sensation rising in his tank. Megatron, the mightiest of mechs, had chosen to hand over control to him, Starscream. He _should_ gloat.  
  
He just couldn't.  
  
”You are staring,” Megatron commented, his hand heavy on Starscream's wing. ”I'm sure my face looks like it did last night.”  
  
Starscream shuttered his optics and turned his face away, leaning his brow against his crossed arms. He lay in silence, giving Megatron space to recover from the damage his ego had sustained. He'd seen it before – the shame his leader felt. The humiliation, the anger and fear that boiled in his spark for wanting to submit. Starscream had been at the receiving end of that rage, and if Megatron felt threatened, things would escalate quickly.  
  
There would be no going back if he handled this badly. Old patterns... just waiting to be reinstalled, so easy to fall back into. He would lose everything if they did, and after last night, nothing would ever be all right again. It was hard to face it, but he had no choice – he was guilty of coercing another bot into his berth. Megatron hadn't brought it up yet because he hadn't gotten around to analysing the events that had lead him to Starscream's berth. Once he did, however...  
  
A slow, sweet touch to his wing brought Starscream out of his thoughts. He drew a hasty, shaky intake and looked up. Megatron was caressing the end of his wing, petting it gently. The old bot met his gaze, a searching look upon his face. Starscream felt at a loss. He didn't know how to begin, but he knew it had to be addressed, the mess he'd left in Megatron's spark and processor. He cycled another intake and dimmed his optics. Perhaps he was thinking too much, as always. Perhaps he ought to trust Megatron's ability to make choices.  
  
Perhaps he was fooling himself and this was just a beautiful prelude to a gritty death.  
  
”Last night,” he said after a few klik's worth of silence.  
  
”What about it?”  
  
There was a slight edge to Megatron's vocals and Starscream's spark pulsed faster. The warlord's hand rested upon vulnerable joints in his back. Not a threat, not yet, but he still felt cold. Breaking the habit was difficult enough as it was – ignoring the signs he'd learnt to watch out for, even harder. Had he been fooling himself all along, thinking there could be something else between them? Had he... When Megatron growled, he started to pull away, but the hand came down on his back, pinning him against the berth.  
  
Megatron's optics narrowed. ”I said,” he whispered, ” _what_ _about_ _it?_ ”  
  
Starscream felt trapped. ”We don't have to talk about it,” he said softly. The hand grabbed his wing and he gasped, trying to hold the instinct to retaliate down. _Slag you,_ he cursed furiously. _No violence means no violence._ This was exactly what he'd hoped to evade, for frag's sake! Megatron didn't seem inclined to let go of him. ”All right,” he sighed. ”You came to me, of all. I imagine it wasn't what you'd planned, but you still did. I'm sorry for... for pushing you into it.”  
  
”Are you, truly?”  
  
Starscream stared at Megatron, feeling something much like disappointment and fear in his tank. Had they gone all this way only to return _that_...? He shuttered his opitcs, refusing to let Megatron see what it did to him. They couldn't go back to old patterns, because he'd given the old fool something he'd never offered anybot before. He'd made a claim and it fragging meant something! It was something private, something precious. He'd dominated others, but he'd never made a claim, never! And, he hadn't known...  
  
Megatron's doubt hurt, and he wanted to get away from him all the sudden. This didn't feel good anymore. It was all wrong, and curse his spark for aching, for _feeling_.  
  
”I'm sorry, I really am,” he said softly. ”I didn't mean to push you. I didn't... Slag, but I didn't know. Nobot told me what was done to you, and had I kno-”  
  
”Move,” Megatron growled.  
  
He was up on his knees before Megatron felt the urge to repeat himself. He wanted to scream at the old bot for doing this, but he understood why. Had their roles been reversed Starscream wouldn't have stopped himself. Megatron was glaring at him, slowly getting up from the berth. The proof of their coupling was visible on his frame and both were reminded of what had transpired between them the night before. Starscream's optics shifted down to himself. _Oh_ , _no_...  
  
Silver and black, all over him. He raised his helm and saw similar marks over Megatron's frame, stark colours, vibrant. _His_ finish. Megatron didn't move, but the roar of his engines drowned everything else out. There was a flush to his face, and his hands were curled into fists. He didn't have to say anything – Starscream saw it in his face. The old bot was  _furious,_ ashamed even. He looked like a mech plotting murder. He uttered a single, strangled demand.  
  
”Who?”  
  
Starscream saw where this was going. ”Wait, you are mistaken – I wasn't told. Soundwave would never have betrayed your trust, and Hook would jump into a smelt before approaching me with such sensitive information.” He saw blue on Megatron's hip, shutterblinked, and met his optics again. He drew a deep intake. ”They didn't say anything... _You_ did.”  
  
”I see.”  
  
”Megatron-”  
  
”You won't breath a word to anybot about it,” Megatron hissed. ”And, this? It was a-”  
  
” _Don't_ ,” Starscream blurted out, lifting a hand as if to protect his face from a blow. ”Please, don't. I didn't know. Had I known, it wouldn't have happened. Do you understand? I would never have taken advantage of the situation. But you came to me, and you told me in every way possible, and I still was blind to the obvious. I 'm sorry. I should have stopped, then you wouldn't let me end it. I should have, but you...”  
  
 _You demanded it, and I needed it.  
_  
Megatron's face was a map of boiling rage, and Starscream knew he'd hit a nerve. ”I'm not mocking you,” he sighed, lowering his wings to placate his leader. ”I have no reason to gloat or to preen. I meant what I said last night. I said I would respect your limits, that I would take care of you. I still _am_ trying to take care of you. So, please don't say it was a mistake to bare my slagging spark to you in the process.”

”Is that what you were doing?” Megatron took a step forward, sneering viciously. ”I seem to remember you were baring _other_ bits, and quite happily at that.”  
  
Starscream stared at his leader, sliding an arm around his midriff to support himself. He was intaking too fast, his spark protesting. What....? He frowned, trying to keep anger and self-loathing at bay. He swallowed hard, shaking his helm. No. Megatron was baiting him, and he wouldn't let it happen. If he let this get out of hand, they would come to blows.  
  
”Don't do this,” he begged quietly.  
  
”Then don't pretend I'm more than just another conquest in a long list of fools,” Megatron snarled back, visibly shaking.  
  
”And what the frag does _that_ mean?” Starscream glared, looking every inch insulted. ”You think I'm 'facing my way through the base? Is that it? Well, slag _you_. I don't know where that came from, but I don't share myself like that!”  
  
Megatron was fuming. ”Liar,” he growled.  
  
Starscream's optics widened and he had to force himself to stay put. Had this been any other time, he would have gone for Megatron's face. _Violence_ _,_ his spark warned him. No, he wasn't about to break his own rules, but it was close. Megatron was pushing all his buttons. ”And just how am I lying now?”  
  
”I saw you,” Megatron said. ”I saw you and Soundwave! I watched you together.”  
  
”You... w-what?”  
  
He stumbled out of the berth, shaking his helm in disbelief as he backed away from Megatron. He felt sick, exposed in a way he'd never experienced before. Megatron was staring at him and all he wanted was to scream the fool's audios off. _You had no right_ , he wanted to shout. What he and Soundwave did during their free time was their own business! It was private, for frag's sake! No bot had the right to see him like that, to judge him, when he was at his most vulnerable! And, Primus have mercy on his spark, but if Megatron had seen them at their usual...  
  
He almost doubled over, sliding his hand over his mouth.  
  
”Starscream?  
  
”I think I need to-”  
  
He got to the wasracks in time. He retched and shook, emtying whatever fuel he had in his tank. It burnt on the way up. Once done, he rested his brow on the edge of the sink. Great, just... great. He'd had the most inappropriate reaction in front of Megatron. The old fool probably thought he was glitching. He sighed and kept his optics shuttered. It was stress, nothing more, but the reaction had been inmediate and... sparkfelt.  
  
”I wasn't expecting that,” Megatron said all of a sudden.  
  
Starscream's wings shot up and spread. He turned around, wiping his face. ”Don't mock me,” he warned, feeling too tired to continue their earlier argument. He looked away and poured water into his hands and rinsed his mouth, spitting the foul taste out. He felt like slag, utterly drained. He hung his helm between his shoulders in defeat.  
  
”I'm not mocking you,” Megatron said quietly. When Starscream turned his helm to meet his gaze, he continued. ”I was jealous, at first. Soundwave is my most trusted officer. He always struck me as a sensible mech, but I saw what he was willing to do with you. _For_ you. You of all. I was confused, Starscream. I was angry, with you _and_ him.”  
  
”How long have have you known?”  
  
Megatron leant against the door, his face shadowed. When he didn't answer, Starscream moved to the washrack and turned the water on. He needed to get clean. Get the proof of his own foolishness gone from his frame. A shower would help him gather his thoughts. A shower would probably make Megatron uncomfortable enough to leave.  
  
The water soon reached the preferred temperature and he stepped inside, leaning his hands against the tiles. If Megatron was still there, he could rust. Starscream didn't give a damn. The old bot had already decided where they stood, so there was nothing left for him to do but to mend his broken spark and learn to pretend. Again.  
  
He let water soothe his tense wings and back. It always helped. He reached for the solvent and froze when his fingers came in contact with another hand – Megatron was standing there, watching him closely. Starscream tried to speak but couldn't. _Damn you. Damn you twice over! Why do you always make me react...?  
  
_ ”I've known for the better part of a solar rotation,” Megatron murmured. ”Four seasons. That's for how long I've known. I was mildly surprised to realise that my two rival officers are lovers. I asked myself, repeatedly, what this would mean for my safety.”  
  
Starscream nodded, mortified. He then realised what Megatron had just said and shook his helm, getting Megatron wet in the process. ”There never was any danger, Megatron. I never tried to change Soundwave's loyalty. He belongs to you, always did. It was his idea, from the beginning, and I just gave him what he wanted. How he likes it.”  
  
”And you get what you want as well, no doubt.”  
  
Starscream snarled and grabbed the solvent out of Megatron's hands, forcefully getting himself clean. He refused to discuss that part, and with Megatron at that. The fragger knew what Starscream liked! He knew, had always known, how to shatter Starscream's peace. Just. Like. Now. He ought to kick him out, but he was still holding true to his vows. He would not turn his chambers into a battle-field. He would honour his promise if he so combusted.  
  
”How long have you wanted to have me like that?”  
  
He bristled. _You know how long,_ he snarled in his processor. The water wasn't hot enough, but changing the temperature meant leaning against Megatron and that he wouldn't do. He drew a deep intake and thought of better things. Of his plans. Of upcoming projects and of the everyday things he had to organise. But his thoughts refused him that last sanctuary, and suddenly he remembered how good Megatron had felt around his fingers instead. He hissed and turned, slamming his palms against the tiles.  
  
”Slag... you,” he whispered. ”Slag you for doing this to me!”  
  
Megatron suddenly grabbed his arm, startling him. Starscream cried out as he was turned and pushed into the cold wall. His cockpit heaved as he tried to cycle. Megatron... Megatron was so big, so slaggin' _big_. Water ran down his frame, but the old bot didn't seem to take notice. He filled Starscream's view, forced him to acknowledge him. Starscream pressed his back against the wall, not sure of where this was going. There was no room for him to get away lest he wanted to punch his way through Megatron. He refused to do so. Not in here, not in the place he'd chosen to represent safety.  
  
”That first time,” Megatron murmured. ”We never spoke of it.”  
  
Could a spark go out by itself? It surely felt like that. The wall was cold against Starscream's wings, and Megatron radiated more warmth than plasma. He wanted to shut his processor down, didn't want to remember, but the files opened anyway, and he heard it again – the sound of Megatron's pained gasps, so long ago. He kept his hands down and looked away, refused to be forced into a confrontation.  
  
”Why bring that up now?” he asked instead, staring at the floor.  
  
”Because it won't go away,” Megatron answered him.  
  
”I know,” Starscream whispered, spark constricting in his chest. ”I hurt you, was greedy and uncaring. I... I'm sorry. I wasn't experienced.” It hurt to admit it. ”I've spent countless years ever since learning how to do it right. I said I wouldn't fail you yesterday. I _didn't_.” He got no answer, felt crowded. ”Can you please not stand so close to me...?”  
  
The silence was only interrupted by the sound of falling water. Starscream sighed and shuttered his optics. He felt miserable. Felt like slag. Exactly why did these things happen to him?  
  
”Apology accepted,” Megatron said suddenly.  
  
Starscream unshuttered his optics and tilted his helm, staring at his leader. ”What did you say?”  
  
”Consider the matter closed,” Megatron muttered, lifting a hand to Starscream's face. ”Last night you didn't fail me. I was unfair... before.” His touch was gentle, thumb stroking Starscream's faceplates. ”I was jealous. It was hard to accept, and so unlikely that _I_ would be jealous of Soundwave, but I was. Starscream, I was jealous because he could trust you, and you never betrayed _him_. Seeing the two of you together forced me to face the truth.”  
  
”Megatron...”  
  
”When I returned,” the warlord continued, ”I didn't know what to do about myself. That sick glitch took everything from me in less than a day. I spent years supressing my coding, and he robbed me of my self-control, broke me. And when I returned, I suspected you.”  
  
” _What?_ ”  
  
”Easy,” Megatron murmured, cupping his face. ”You were the only one I ever turned to, Starscream. I never told another bot. Just you...”  
  
Starscream's intakes hitched when Megatron angled his face, leaning down. _Just you_. His spark grew hot, expanded within its chamber as their lips touched. He moaned, accepting Megatron's advances. It felt so good to give in, just this time. He slid his arms around Megatron's broad shape and stood on his toes. He licked Megatron's lips, almost sobbing in relief as Megatron pushed him harder against the wall, roaming his big hands over his frame. Starscream's thrusters grew weak – there was nothing submissive about Megatron now, and he shuddered in delight.  
  
The water hit his face when he arched and offered Megatron his neck. _Slag, slag, slag...!_ Megatron's engines made his cockpit vibrate and he groaned, nodding. Primus, yes...! _This_. Just like this, like nothing had ever gone wrong between them. Megatron bit his neck, and he kissed his resolution goodbye, clinging to his leader.  
  
” _Nngh_...!”  
  
Hands groped his hips, then his panel and Starscream hissed, spreading his thighs. Megatron was between them in a beat, griding hard against him. The heat almost sufficated Starscream, left him gasping in need. This was spinning fast out of control, but for once he didn't mind. He slid his panel open and moved with Megatron when the old bot hoisted him up. It was an easy thing to put his legs around Megatron's waist and hold onto him. Megatron kissed him hard. It felt so good, and Starscream groaned. When Megatron's spike pushed against the rim of his valve, all he could do was gasp.  
  
Megatron, however, didn't move. Starscream shuddered, wanting it so bad he hurt. ”Please,” he whispered, water falling around them like rain. ”Please...”  
  
”Tell me what to do,” Megatron growled into his audio, biting his helm. Starscream had never heard such a pitch in his vocals before. Megatron was shaking, desperate need colouring everything he said and did. ”You claimed me, so tell me what to do... _Master_.”  
  
The purr went straight to his valve and Starscream scratched Megatron's armour, marking the mech he'd claimed as his own. He looked into Megatron's face and saw the truth there – Megatron was his, and he always had been. His spark pulsed and his valve tightened. He groaned. Megatron held him easily as he pushed against that perfect spike of his. He felt drunk, felt almost giddy. Felt victorious. Megatron shuddered, but he didn't move, merely waited for his command. Starscream hissed and licked his jawline, watching him with a predatory gleam in his optics.  
  
”Fuck me,” he whispered against his lips.  
  
Megatron did as he was told, arching against Starscream. He snapped his hips and entered him swiftly, rolling his hips, grinding deep. Starscream cried out, Megatron's frame flush against his own. The old bot held his gaze, looking so very serious. Starscream murmured sweet things and stroked his helm, kissed him slowly. Megatron's submission was real and it had been given freely. It changed everything. Here – under the water, nothing else mattered.  
  
When he came, he brought Megatron along with a single word. Megatron spilled inside him, clinging to him in silence, venting hard. The water was turning cold, but Starscream didn't care. He stroked Megatron's shoulders, whispering soft words of encouragement, things lovers would say. Megatron relaxed and rested his helm on Starscream's shoulder. Starscream nuzzled him, all languid, and at peace.  
  
 _I think I'm falling in love again_.  
  
”What happens now?”  
  
He hadn't meant to say anything at all, but it was too late to take it back. They'd come too far, changed too much, to go back. Megatron kissed his neck, then shifted until he could meet Starscream's optics.   
  
”We move on,” Megatron said.  
  
Starscream swallowed hard, feeling like that ground had opened beneath his thrusters. His wings lowered at what he thought to be a rejection. Did that mean it was over before it had even started? He didn't trust his vocals for the longest while.  
  
”What does that mean?”  
  
”That we start all over again,” his leader told him, stroking his wings.  
  
Relief filled Starscream's spark, mending old wounds. Megatron spoke of a second chance, a clean slate. Starting all over again? He could do that.

Megatron was looking at him, and Starscream gave him a sly grin. ”Hallo there, tall and handsome,” he said. ”I heard you were in the market for a brilliant second in command. The name's Starscream. I'm going to drive you crazy, build you weapons of mass destruction when I feel like it, and steal your throne. You won't get a better offer because I killed all the competition.”  
  
Megatron's laughter was the best thing he'd heard in ages. When the old bot sobered up, he nodded and bumped their helms together. ”Hired,” he said.  
  
”You won't be disappointed,” Starscream purred, leaning in for another kiss.  
  
*~*~*  
  
The connection was shut down. _Again_. In the dark, a set of blue optics shone too bright. He growled and slammed his fist into the wall. Behind him, a yelp was heard. He didn't bother to turn, and stared into the terminal.  
  
”Why are you still here? I'm done with you.”  
  
”I'm leaving,” his toy whispered, stepping gingerly out of the berth.  
  
”Wait,” he said as the bot was reaching for the door. He turned to see Sunstreaker cringe, and smiled at the sight of his fear. ”What was decided during the debriefing?”  
  
”Nothing much,” his pet said. ”Unless the 'Cons attack, nothing will be done about them. Prowl thinks something's off with Megatron. He hasn't been seen for over a year, and sightings of 'Cons are so rare they could have left Earth already.”  
  
”But they haven't left.”  
  
”No.”  
  
”And they are still hiding in their base?”  
  
His pet nodded. ”Jazz says they are still here. They just aren't taking the baits we lay out. He says they won't unless we force an encounter and give them a reason to attack.”  
  
His plan had worked, he'd seen to it! He'd given Starscream such a nice little gift, and the seeker had refused to give him what he'd promised. He'd been tricked! He growled and tried to reach Starscream again, but the secured line was still blocked. He felt his anger spread like a virus, gripping at his spark. By the door, his toy tried to sink into the wall.  
  
”If it's a reason they need, then we'll give them one,” he growled, looking at the terminal with narrowed optics. He traced the information upon each seeker, small things Starscream had been foolish enough to share with him. He smiled – _that_ _one_. Hit them where it hurts the most, he thought as his spark filled with malice. Starscream would have no choice but to respond to his next move.  
  
”I've got work for you,” he said, smiling beautifully bright. ”There is a seeker I want you to capture  for me. His designation is Thundercracker...”

 


	6. To Honour and Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a vow is spoken, it will gain the means to shape a life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This comes 3 years late, and I won't lie - this is probably the most difficult story I've ever written. Thank you, for waiting.

Megatron sat upon his throne, a thoughtful look on his face.

Distant as Cybertron itself, he gazed calmly into the air, never once acknowledging the presence of his subjects, no matter how noisy and rowdy. By contrast, he was everything they were not, more specifically, quiet.

_A statue more than a mech_ , Starscream thought idly as his optics moved over the scene playing out before him.

Today, to no bot's surprise, brought the same routine as yesterday, and the one of the day before, with Megatron sitting down to have a cube after a hard day's work while equally thirsty grunts filled the great hall, taking seat by the scattered tables. Hazard games, low-grade, and mingling was what they came for. _Some_ , however, were too busy to engage in such trivialities - they were busy watching Megatron instead.

Starscream figured they were waiting for a revelation – a misplaced word here, a slip there, just about _anything_ , as long as it was out of character. And, as one spectator looked away, another would take his place, and stare in ill-boding silence. 

_Frag it all to the Pit, those little glitches..._

It had been such a _good_ idea. One that both Soundwave and Hook had supported. Megatron hadn't been too keen upon following his advice, but with carefully chosen terms, Starscream explained the issue they had at hand. He had literally put his spark into explaining _why_ Megatron needed to get the frag out of his office before hell broke loose. Megatron had not understood why burying himself under work was even an issue to start with – he was still _Megatron_ , and if he chose to lock himself in his office, then so be it. 

It had taken their lord time, weeks actually, to fully understand how keeping out of sight, more or less hiding behind his work, had been a dire mistake. The main body of the army _needed_ to see him, demanded the stability his public appearence brought along. 

Megatron had refused to accept this, naturally. It wasn't until Starscream had blurted out that maintaining such behaviour would, in the long run, provoke a challenge from the more power-hungry officers in the ranks, that the old mech gave in. The following morning he had emerged from his chambers, descending like an ancient god upon his army, offering no explanation what so ever to this change in routines. 

This was also when all that staring had started. 

The most seasoned warrior would have cracked under the pressure, but Megatron never seemed to notice the scrutinity he was being put under. Perhaps he simply didn't care, and thus chose to ignore the blatant idiots. Such composure, coming from the former most violent mech in the army, had only made it all worse. The amount of gossip peaked, but in the end _no bot_ could claim they knew what had happened to their lord, or why he had begun to act like a decent leader despite himself. 

And, Megatron offered no clues whatsoever. 

Starscream had to admit that it was strangely attractive, this silent declaration of war. The impact of it was nothing short of severe – the old mech had crushed a revolution in the making just by being present, quiet, and _solid_. 

Shifiting in his seat, taking great care of not drawing attention to himself, Starscream let his optics wander. The slight raise of his core-temp had nothing to do with his sudden need to move. He had a duty, and detecting danger was his speciality. Besides, the greatest danger came from within, or so he had learnt. Thus, he studied scenery, ignoring the heat in his lines. 

It seemed like every grunt in the army had decided to take a seat in the great hall today. The gossips had gathered as well. He caught a few watching _him_ , as well. 

A cruel smile touched his features. 

Only self-preservation kept the worst tattlers from trying to pry information out of him. Without Megatron to back them up, they were right to fear Starscream's wrath. There was no place for troublemakers in the ranks, and he would not suffer disrespect from grunts. They behaved, at least when he was around to see it. 

This left a whole lot of time for everything that needed fixing, take the little trinket before him. Hiking his wings higher up in renewed interest, he went back to poke his project. He had far too many tasks, but working with his hands relieved him of stress. This was how he usually sorted his processor out, and right now he needed the peace it brought. A minor character flaw perhaps, but he was just a mech, even at the best of times. On top of that, he'd had a lot on his mind lately, so if he could just get this stupid thing to work, there would at least be _one_ less- 

A shout came out of nowhere, startling him bad enough to have him ripping the cable off. Fuming, he shuttered his optics, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. _Primus..._ He'd broken it, and there were no spare-parts for this unit, not a single one, in this fragging planet. No local alloy would be able to replace it, either. He felt the exhaustion of a lifetime, far too angry to question his choice of leaving his workshop. 

As laughter literally exploded around him, he almost lost it. It was the idea of losing control with Megatron there to see it, that kept him from getting up on his thrusters and shooting the laughing disgraces in the face. _I'm done being everybot's favourite fool._ He concentrated upon his intakes, cycling air slowly until the tension bled out of his frame. Never again would he become the joke of the army. He was done being that mech. _Deep intakes_ , he reminded himself, allowing his wings to droop an inch. _Breathe it out._

It took longer than he'd expected, and unsurprisingly, he found himself staring at Megatron the moment he looked up again. 

A klik passed, his optics narrowed. 

Something was... bothering him. Perhaps it was the loss of a valuable tool that made him feel this way, but he knew himself well enough to know that whatever this was about, it had most likely been irking him for a while. 

How _interesting_ \- here he'd been analysing his lord, keeping his processor occupied with what his optics saw instead of coming to terms with the truth. Starscream was a liar, or so everybot said. Funny how he'd never been able to fool himself. Unlike others, he had no use of self-deceit. He would tackle this the same way he handled everything else - with scathing sarcasm, and not so little sharpness. 

A very small and shameful part of his spark ached beneath the crushing weight of self-scrutiny. Having nothing to lose, he took a closer look at the source of his problem, and it all came back to Megatron. 

He felt his self-control shatter just _looking_ at the old mech. Megatron still held that much power over him. The thought made his hands shake, and he put the ruined converter down with great care, grimacing lightly at the sight of the broken components. He felt like shredding the thing, but smashing the remains of his precious project wouldn't help, no matter how he otherwise felt. Idly, he stroked a small chip while cursing himself. 

Megatron shifted, and Starscream gladly turned his attention back to his lord. The show of indifference was ever present, but even though the mech radiated calm, something in the way he held himself alerted Starscream. 

_What are you up to, old mech?_

Starscream tilted his helm, reading Megatron's body language with great care. Something was unfolding right before his optics, but what was he missing? And, was that a _shiver..._? Wait, now. What could possible do that to the old mech? And, exactly what was he staring at? Starscream saw nothing out of the norm, just a bunch combiners being lazy as usual, gesticulating wildly. 

_Wait._

Megatron wasn't staring at the combiners, was he? 

_He is staring at their hands._ Leaning back, Starscream hissed softly, killing the urge to stand up. Megatron looked close to emptying his tank. That... that was a bad sign. _He said he didn't have flashbacks anymore, and I believed him. Starscream, you_ fool. 

Of all things Megatron could have hidden from him, this was absolutely the worst. Sadly, it made perfect sense – Megatron didn't know what to look for, couldn't know. Was he trying to match what his optics now saw, with what his frame remembered? Starscream knew he had been made blind during the attack, but it always came back to _hands_. 

Was anybot else seeing this? Starscream didn't dare to look around, didn't want to draw attention to himself or Megatron. He could see it now, the tightly leashed fear, present in every intake Megatron drew. Fear, if allowed to, could bring down empires from within. Fear powered by old wounds lead to nothing but misery. It _hurt_ , wasn't useful at all. It made bots unfit to rule, lest carefully guided. 

He had chosen to trust Megatron, but clearly he couldn't trust Megatron's ability to control what ate him from within while being surrounded, even preyed upon, by an army created in his image. The gossips, the power-hungry officers – they all agreed upon that Megatron was acting out of character. Given a chance, they would go after him if they caught the scent of fear. 

And, if they ever figured out what had cause the change in the first place...

_No, his development did not come as a result of the assault,_ Starscream reminded himself, echoing Soundwave's words. The telepath had been quite persistent about this, explaining the facts with an urgent look upon his face. There were parallels between their lord and his third-in-command now, and Soundwave had yet another reason to be protective of him. 

Starscream already knew as much.

As for Megatron's behaviour? It wasn't about having been subjected to rape, nor was it about Megatron trying to make himself feel better. It certainly wasn't about _hiding_ , although Starscream wondered about that one every now and then. At the end of the day, the real drive behind the change everybot saw and felt, had been born out of the aftermath of Megatron having his processor raked over and over again in order to find a clue, a sign, _anything_ that would give his attacker away. 

The three of them – Soundwave, Hook, and Starscream, had at one point fully expected Megatron to retaliate and give up, but day after day he would return and give himself over to the telepath's gentle probing, asking for nothing but time in order to lower his firewalls. 

It was during these sessions that Megatron had been forced to face himself, being exposed to the truth of what and _whom_ he had become. He'd seen every failure, and had lived through every slagging mistake he'd committed ever since he waged war on Cybertron's ruling caste. With nowhere to hide from the truth, the impact on his mind was... severe. Whatever illusion or facade he'd built up around his person was shredded in an instant, and it was from the ruins of whom he'd allowed himself to become, that an old friend stepped out– 

He was _Megatron_ , and he would accept _no_ defeat. 

Their lord faced himself that very moment, and clawing at the walls of his fractured mind, he had shed the last pretence, had seen himself through his younger self's optics. Accepting what he had become, and how he had failed at protecting the core of his cause, his mind had broken anew. And, this was how the mightiest of warriors had returned his origins, knowing the limits to his might, no matter the pain, shame, and disgust his rebirth brought along. 

In the end, Megatron actually failed to identify his rapist, but he had found something of greater worth – his old resolution, and along with it, he'd achieved much needed perspective.

Healing was another, much more critical matter. It would come slowly, Soundwave had murmured while they guarded their sleeping lord some time ago. Sitting in the semi-darkness, sharing some low-quality energon, they had spoken with hushed vocals, shared concerns and hopes for the future. Wounds that didn't bleed were difficult to treat, and mending would not come without a high price. Megatron had taken those first important steps towards healing, and he was coping in his own way, fighting an everyday war to get well. 

More than a year had passed, and he was _still_ fighting, and would do so for as long as needed, the telepath had pointed out, his face-mask down, emotions fully visible. Starscream hadn't failed to read between the lines. 

What Soundwave had tried to voice without being obvious, was that Megatron was as strong as ever, and worthy of following no matter what. 

Starscream had seen the old mech's recent development, the hard work he put behind keeping the base safe, basically ignoring his own needs lest Starscream was there to remind him of them. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that he was dealing with Megatron, and not some fabled leader from ages past. 

The old mech still failed, but he'd learnt to listen, and quite often asked for advice from his officers. There were days he specifically asked for Starscream's point of view, nodding, _never once_ ridiculing him, just carefully taking his SIC's words in. Only once Starscream was done talking would their lord speak up, asking all the right questions, showing that he had listened closely. For the first time in his life as a Decepticon soldier, Starscream was allowed to shine the way he was meant to, and the more pride he took in his processor and hard work, the more Megatron warmed up to him.

Even with the changes in Megatron, this had come as a surprise. Because of it, Starscream had found himself more attentive than ever. It terrified him. Had they not been there right before everything had gone wrong all those years ago...?

Oh, _please._

His worry was instantly washed away by an internal, but oh so _eloquent_ snort. He scoffed at himself. What good was fear anyway? It had not prevented the abuse that had followed his initial mistake, nor had it made him stronger. All it had done, was to make him spiteful, and while that was useful in an army of brutes, it had brought him nowhere near a solution to his problems. 

If he chose to listen to his fear, the submission Megatron had gifted him with would be lost in a raging sea of doubt. This was why he held onto the precious memory of how the old mech had placed himself in his hands. By giving Starscream the reins, trusting him enough to safely take him over the edge, to make it _right_ again, the mech had finally bound Starscream to himself. There was no going back, this time. 

_So much for becoming leader,_ Starscream muttered to himself. Drawing a deep intake, he once again promised to always be there. He would also make sure he _deserved_ Megatron's gift of submission, and while the responsibility came with not so little danger, he gladly accepted it. The old mech had given himself to Starscream, had called him _master_... 

For that alone, Starscream would be the best second in command anybot had ever seen. He would make use of everything he was in order to be the best he could be. If that meant use himself as ruthlessly as he used others, then so be it. 

It wasn't about being honourable – he was many a thing, but honourable he was _not_. He just wanted to be the one Megatron turned to, desperately craved to be the one whom the old bot chose _first_. It wasn't pretty, as greed and jealousy was involved, but he was a territorial mech. Even now he kept his nature in check, because Megatron needed to stand on his own. The strength his lord possessed came from many different sources, and as a leader, his was the right to demand everything from his officers. 

Soundwave included. 

There was a sudden tightness in Starscream's spark. 

Soundwave's loyalty belonged to Megatron, no matter how he otherwise gave himself to Starscream. Their little games were a pastime, or so they had pretended all along. Starscream refused to fail the telepath, and Megatron's favourite or not, Soundwave _still_ begged for Starscream's attention. Neither of them voiced it, how deep their arrangement went. Starscream had no words to explain it to himself either, other than that lately, the tension between them lacked the angry edge of old times. 

This had left everybot involved bewildered – it had been a dangerous game, but now it was... tender. Starscream didn't know what to make out of it. He felt... No, he _was_ lost, through and through. After all these years, he finally had it all. He had dreamt of this moment, but never in his wildest dreams had it been like this. It had never come at this cost, either. He didn't just feel lost, he was _drowning_ -

Megatron suddenly turned his helm, piercing Starscream's gaze. 

He felt a needy tug in his midriff – Megatron was drawing him in, and he felt himself gravitate towards the force of nature his lord actually was. Only Megatron watched him with that wounded, reserved expression of his. The same look he'd had that time in the infirmary, when he'd been found by the Constructicons. It was... a silent scream, Starscream realised all the sudden. He hadn't been able to break free from the flashback - it showed in the tension around his lips, in the way his intakes came a bit too fast, how one of his hands was denting the arm-rest. 

Starscream was shaken to his very core – was Megatron still caught in that private nightmare of his? Out here, were everybot could see him? He was _vulnerable_ like this. If somebot approached him now, he might lose his nerve and flee, with everybot wanting a piece of him watching his terrified retreat. 

No, that was unacceptable. 

Megatron's optics were dark and large, all intent, the tendons of his neck moving as he swallowed thickly. That somehow made it even worse. What was he trying to say? Starscream almost opened a private comm.link, but stopped himself in time. Everybot would be made aware of it, and even worse, notice what Megatron was trying to hide. 

_What do you want me to do, old mech?_

When it hit him, Starscream almost flinched. 

Megatron was asking for help. 

Megatron was asking _him_ for help. 

_I promised to never let go,_ Starscream thought. Megatron was counting upon it. It left his spark spinning, jubilant and desperate both. _But, how?_ How was he supposed to maintain Megatron's integrity in front of the whole fragging army?

It was the longest nano-klik in his life, and somehow he knew they were perfectly tuned to each other as never before. 

_I will never let you down again._

He'd _promised._

Time slowed, the moment coming to its end. If he didn't act, something would break between them. No, he would not fail Megatron this time. He pushed his own panic down, and drew a deep intake. Next he lowered his shoulders. His outer cool, the look of disinterest, didn't match what he felt inside, but he knew how to lie without uttering a single word. He had done this a billion times, whilst being ridiculed. 

He had pretended not to care, how vile words came after him. He had pretended to be made of the hardest materials in the universe, just so no bot would see how he _loathed_ being laughed at. He had punched Megatron in the face, taken all his pain into his guts, and turned it into seething anger, and spark-shattering ice. 

To have his authority stripped, to be forced to crawl before everybot else. To have his intellect questioned, his bright mind spat at. To be beaten bloody, and _still_ stand. To force himself to make a fool out of himself just to _survive_ one day at a time. He knew every trick in the book, had made himself hard enough to walk with his helm high even when Megatron's verbal punches had broken his spark. 

Just a nano-klik had passed, but his was a life-time of survival instinct. 

_Keep looking at me,_ his mind whispered, even though Megatron couldn't hear him. _I will walk you through it._

Megatron's hand gripped the arm-rest harder, and then loosened around it. There was a hesitant question in his optics. Starscream straightened his back, and saw Megatron do the same. His was a faked calm, but it was real enough to help restore Megatron's composure one step at the time.

_Good,_ he thought. _Follow my lead, my lord. Pretend until it feels like the real deal, just this time..._

It was a fleeting moment, and yet it lasted a thousand years. His lord copied his every move, down to the length of his intakes, and Starscream saw his resolution and calm return. In the span of two kliks, Megatron was able to break free from his nightmare, and come back to him. The old mech offered him a courtly nod, and then he looked away. His composure would have fooled Starscream. It certainly fooled everybot who'd witnessed their little interaction. 

Starscream, however, was left drained. 

Still, where Megatron had fooled everybot, _he_ fooled his lord. No need to show Megatron how his hands shook, or how his wings wanted to droop. While turning his gaze elsewhere, his frantic HUD kindly reminded him of the danger of his stress levels. He had no time for that. Two or three grunts were still watching _him_. He added a sneer to an otherwise perfect act, to keep things interesting. He knew how strange it must look – Megatron and Starscream, just studying each-other, not even pretending to be on a friendly note. Just being civil. 

That, at least, was what everybot saw. 

The troublemakers would try to make something else out of it, but with the base expanding, hands were needed everywhere, and they would be put to work if they pushed their luck. No more nights in the brig for improper behaviour - nosy fools were nowadays put to work. Sometimes they ended up in the same construction team as Megatron himself, but such situations were adeptly contained by Hook. 

His team had more or less adopted Megatron as one of their own, and Soundwave said that the Constructicons were a great part of Megatron's renewal. Starscream was thankful for their direct, if blunt approach to healing. They didn't know of the details, Hook had assured him, but Devastator shared one mind. That meant they at least understood the nature of Megatron's wounds. And, for all the secrecy of his recovery, they kept Megatron's hands busy, surrounding him with obstacles he _could_ overcome.

It was a good arrangement. 

The Constructicons doted upon their newest project, and showed no restrain when it came to punishing mechs who forgot their place. Soundwave, too, was merciless in his pursuit of disloyal grunts, and no bot dared to cross Megatron's favourite anyway. 

There were plenty of power-hungry glitches, ready to climb higher in the chain-of-command, but that came with the territory. Starscream saw it as a part of being a Decepticon. What good was a tyrant's army if it wasn't full of opportunistic fraggers? The ones actually posing a threat could be dealt with, and that was pretty much it. 

...Unless Megatron made a target of himself, of course. 

He gave a tired sigh, and poked the broken converter. _No wonder they are trying to figure us out,_ , Starscream thought. _We have changed, both of us. Megatron the most._

As if to prove a point, a new wave of grunts gathered nearby Megatron, as moths drawn to a burning light. They, much unlike the officers, responded beautifully to the old bot's commanding silence. They seemed to be warming up to a far less hostile environment, too. 

And, as the fools they were, they copied Megatron in _everything._

This had sparked a chain-reaction, and Starscream knew it was happening all over again, just like before. This time he was there to witness the birth of something new. That, he figured, had been Megatron's function all along. Only Megatron had the ability to change the course of history this way. Starscream had joined the Decepticons when the movement had already been dreamt up, but he knew his history; once upon a time, Megatron had captured the sparks of those who wanted more than just a change. His vision of what Cybertronians as a race, should be, had hurled Cybertron into war. 

Megatron's charisma was now fully restored, serving him just like it had done millions of years ago, and history was repeating itself. 

Starscream didn't even bother to look around, because it was a physical thing, how the hero-worship was rekindled in the assembled bots. Even _he_ felt Megatron's alluring presence grip his spark, making him _remember_...

To his defence, Megatron actually seemed unaware of how he affected those around him, and that was a good thing. It really was, because long ago he'd used his charm to snare Starscream, binding the Seeker to his cause just like that. Well, Starscream would be the first to admit that he'd come willingly along, and the warlord, whether he liked it or not, had become the centre of all Cybertronian attention. 

Even the _Autobots_ were acutely aware of him, and the little glitches hadn't seen him for two full rotations. 

They wouldn't have been disappointed. Megatron sat like an arrogant king upon his throne, strong thighs spread wide, arms relaxed on the armrests. When he moved, it was only to reach for a beautifully sculpted goblet, sipping slowly. Few bots who could pull that look off, Soundwave being one of them, but the Megatron Starscream had come to loathe? 

No, _that_ mech been a brute, always relying on his strength and dominance to keep his subjects in line. An impressive skill perhaps, but it was the raging fire within his spark that had made him so fascinating. That fire had diminished during the war, and had become embers upon their arrival to Earth. Now it burnt brighter than ever. 

For better or worse, Megatron was the very soul of Decepticon-hood, and he alone set the standard for what they were supposed to be. Some officers weren't too happy about this rekindled, albeit gentle fire, but Starscream wasn't too sure it was a bad thing. 

Then, there was the display of dignity in everything he did. 

An unknown quality for most Decepticons, but Megatron wasn't just any mech, was he now? The Autobots had needed a Prime with a celestial trinket in order to match the grandeur of Megatron, not the other way around. It was a gift he had, to change those around him. 

Looking back, Starscream realised that no fight had broken out for more days he cared to count. Actually, he couldn't recall the last time he'd been forced to discipline a mech out of line either. It was Megatron's doing, all of it. There _were_ cracks in that calm of his, but Megatron was upholding the morale of every bot in the army, changing not only the infrastructure of the base, but that of the whole army as well. 

And, the changes went _deep_.

Megatron no longer ran his officers ragged with impossible, stupid demands. He _did_ expect them to deliver, which was surprisingly inspiring for a bot like Starscream, who excelled beneath positive stress. And then, there was that meeting a few weeks ago, in which Megatron had told everybot that he needed them to use the skills he'd recruited them for, and develop some new ones, if they wanted to see an end to the war. Later that day, he'd told the rest of the army that he would take them home, in one way or another. 

That had come as a surprise to everybot in the ranks, Starscream included. 

_Who wants Earth_ , Megatron had asked them, _when we can have Cybertron back?_

There is nothing as dangerous as hope, and Starscream had seen Megatron wield hope like a weapon that day, winning them all over again. Who _didn't_ want to go home? Earth was disgusting, beneath them, but Starscream had seen too many opportunities gone wasted thanks to Megatron's reckless stupidity, and his unhealthy fixation with Optimus slagging Prime. For Megatron, winning the war had ceased to be important the moment he'd had realised there was one bot he couldn't beat. 

Ever since, it had all been about besting the Prime. 

Starscream stared at the pad, worrying his lower lip. Once upon a time he'd admired Megatron for his daring political views – for his visions, and the way those moving speeches would make his armour feel tight and hot. That day, when Megatron spoke to them about going home, Starscream been pleasantly surprised to feel hope again. It was a dangerous thing, because a promise is a promise. The old mech had set things into motion, and the festive, almost friendly atmosphere in the base came as a direct result of his words. The troops now desperately needed Megatron to keep his promise, because otherwise that hope would shatter, and they would lose faith in their leader. 

If that was allowed to happen, then every progress they'd made the last one and a half year would be for nothing. His fellow officers shared his view on the matter, but none felt as strong about it as Starscream did. He was _sick_ of Earth, and he was sicker still of Optimus Prime, and the foul effect he'd on Megatron's ability to process the last few millions. So, if the old bot intended to take them home, he would have Starscream's full support and help. 

One project less to care about, he grabbed his pad and tried to solve some equations. He _would_ get some work done, or so help him Primus. 

Then why couldn't he actually put his mind to it?

_Because you are jealous_. 

Of course he was – the Prime had been Megatron's first priority for such long time that their current agreement, and the sweetness it promised, almost felt unreal. Megatron belonged to him, but Starscream was no Prime, was he now? He was perfect in his own way, but not... _Not a Prime_ , his processor filled in for him. Slag that. He had proved himself worthy of Megatron, hadn't he? Megatron had called _him_ master. Optimus Prime could go suck slag, for all he cared. 

_Equations_ , he reminded himself. 

Equations be damned.

What if Megatron made it to a battle-field, and the Prime showed up? What if Megatron had a flashback while fighting the Autobot leader? They still had no trace of Megatron's attacker, and the last thing they needed was Megatron to have a breakdown where their enemies could get the better of him. His duty as Megatron's SIC demanded him to not just speak up for his safety, but also stay ahead of every move the Autobots made. 

He would make sure Megatron had no reason to face the Autobots, even if it meant that he worked twice as much. The pad... Well, it wasn't exactly working with his hands, but work was work. He put the equations away, and accessed his messages instead. Idly scrolling past several reports aimed at other officers, he saw yesterday's report come in. 

Autobot activity up by 45%?

For the umpteenth time, he wondered what the frag the Autobots were up to. Staring at the report, he leant forward, carefully studying the message. 

According to Soundwave, the Autobots were getting more bold and aggressive with each passing day, almost as if they were trying to force a reaction out of them. There was an urgency behind their attacks upon their systems, too. Soundwave ended his message with a fervent reminder of not using any unsafe line of communication. There was an actual landline in the base, so use it. The Constructicons had built it in when Megatron had ordered total radio silence a while ago, seeing the Autobots kept trying to break through their firewalls. 

_Blaster_ , Starscream thought, as a wave of unease made his tank roll. Now, if there was a mech he didn't want around, it would be Blaster. The mech was strong, unpredictable, and hard to take down. It would be a mistake to fall for the charms of a mech who hid behind such a broad smile. He had history to fall back upon that matter, didn't he? _Fool me twice,_ he thought bitterly, wishing he could dismember the glitch. 

Biting down on a loud growl, he made a note to keep his own comm.links locked, and wisely encrypted. He would also make sure Soundwave kept an optic on that wretch _and_ his spies, because the fragger had a nasty ability to get around secured lines, specially those the mech been _successfully_ locked out of. 

Sadly, Blaster wasn't the only problem in the enemy camp. Just as dangerous, and with a grin that promised nothing but trouble, was the third highest ranked Autobot, Jazz. That mech would have made a wonderful Decepticon, and Starscream sneered down at the picture of him. Small, annoying, a savage brute hiding in a saintly Autobot-shell. Everybot thought Prowl was the real problem, but Starscream wasn't buying into that load of scrap. Jazz also had a whole harem of gifted little cohorts working for him from the dark. He had managed to recruit quite a few bots Starscream himself had set his optics upon. 

He swiped the report away, and opened his files on the Autobots he had personal reasons to kill. It was a surprisingly short list, truly. Blaster was in it, but not his spies. While grunts were annoying, they were not game changers. The ones he had actual issues with were few in between. However, Blaster and Jazz aide, the fraggers had- 

The all-too-familiar face that came up next made his processor stall for a whole nano-klik, before he realised what he was doing. He was almost unwilling to read the glyphs beneath the broad, handsome face. He growled under his breath, then swallowed hard, forcing himself to read the designation. _Behind the enemy lines,_ he thought, _there's_ Skyfire.

Skyfire would know how to get through, wouldn't he? He knew every little dirty secret of Starscream's, after all. Knew everything he wanted forgotten. _Concentrate!_ Starscream almost winced at the hate his vocals carried through. He didn't want to remember how close they had been, nor how painful... _No_. He shuttered his optics, then felt sick. Was he shaking? The traitorous shuttle had hurt him where it mattered. Skyfire had been a mistake, the one Starscream regretted the most. At some point, he would have to deal with the fragger, but not now.

He had no time for former lovers of any kind, specially not those who dared to be a little _too_ friendly-

His mind stalled. 

All it took was the smallest association, and once there, he couldn't steer away from the memories. He tried to shut them down, but it was too late. His tank flipped unpleasantly as foggy memories came back to him. They unsettled him more than he wanted, curled in the back of his mind as he stared at the pad. The scent, all sickly sweet, and the _taste_ of harsh kisses, those slurred words... _No._ He refused to think of that time. He had no time to deal with it, no matter how much the energon in his lines called out for vengence. He would arrange something, and he would teach that _Autobot_ a lesson, but not today. 

No, today he would perform his duties without being distracted by earlier failures. 

Holding firmly onto that thought, he eventually managed to even his intakes out. He needed another kind of distraction, and made sure to bury himself in the numbers Soundwave had sent to him. He... Could not face that, yet. One day he would, just not this one. He was needed here and now, and numbers were _easy_ , logical. They had a soothing effect on his systems. Here was something he could fix, something that would cost him nothing, and for a while nothing else mattered.

After a few kliks, however, he was forced to put the pad down. He frowned, his earlier distress replaced by another kind of worry. He shook his helm, then entered the figures again, and frowned some more. He tried different equations, other numbers, even started all over again just to be sure. And yet, no matter how he turned the figures, they still showed in the negative. 

It took him slightly aback. 

Were they really that low on fuel...? 

”Wonderful,” he muttered. ”Just... _wonderful._ ”

He rubbed his helm, picturing a most unwanted confrontation with the Autobots. It would come to that, because it was either starving or finding alternative ways of fuelling. He turned his helm, studying Megatron. 

The old mech would no doubt want to tag along next time they had to raid another human settlement. He was nowhere near ready for that. Not after what had happened today, at least. Their lord wanted to be useful, but engaging the Prime would be foolish. He was sure Soundwave would talk him out of it, seeing the spy had agreed upon Starscream's request of keeping Megatron grounded for as long as possible. Their survival hung on it. 

The noise fell back as Starscream looked down. If he could keep this information away from Megatron until he'd had a chance to talk to Soundwave, they might still have a chance. Now, all that remained was for him to keep them floating long enough. 

*~*~*

The fuel would last another three weeks. 

If his calculations were anything to go by, they needed to act immediately. He rolled his shoulders, fanning his wings in order to maintain a healthy circulation. He shifted in his seat, looking around as he stretched. How long had he been at it? It felt like hours had passed. A quick check on his chronometer confirmed his guess. 

Four hours, and the only difference was that the noise level had dropped somewhat. He shrugged, and went back to work, the pad drawing his attention back. He needed to find a way of making their resources last longer than three slagging weeks. They had a few converters, but it wasn't enough. At some point they would need the real deal. They could, of course, close down most of the base, but Megatron might be against it. 

Working, he still managed to notice the absence of Soundwave. 

Starscream looked around and saw his spies here and there, but alas – no Soundwave. 

_Huh._

Another handful of kliks passed before he realised that his mind refused to let go of this piece of information. Where was he, his rival and lover both? Every other officer had joined the main body of the army, but not Soundwave. He wasn't exactly worried. Soundwave had his own projects and duties to perform.

Only he should have been done by now. 

His absence could, however, be explained with Starscream's presence. 

They hadn't exactly parted on good terms last time they'd been in private. Not entirely unexpected, really, seeing Starscream had taken their lord to his berth. There was a certain amount of jealousy, on both parts. The whole deal could have gone out of hand, but...

_Neither of us wanted a fight._

Soundwave had known. 

He must have noticed, the way Megatron and Starscream moved around each other. It was a quiet peace about them. Both did what their stations demanded of them, and they shared a look every now and then. Nothing had happened the day after they'd made love, nor the day after that. Megatron had not asked for his attention ever since, and Starscream had not pushed himself upon their lord. In a way, what they were experiencing outside the berth was of a greater importance. 

Domestic bliss. 

It felt slagging amazing, and for a few days, everything had felt like a dream come true. Then Soundwave had come to Starscream's workshop, informing him that he would crush Starscream's spark if he hurt their leader. The whole thing could have ended in a mess, had Starscream not read between the lines. Soundwave cared for Megatron, for _both_ his superiors, actually. 

He knew Soundwave, trusted him, and had thus lowered his fire-walls. 

_Go ahead,_ he'd said. _Whatever you think I'm up to, it's all there... If you can find it._

It had been an... intense experience. He'd never realised how deep Soundwave's fear ran, or how passionate he could be in the pursuit of a threat. Megatron had more than once unleashed his pet on enemies and allies alike, and Starscream had learnt how to fight back, even when losing ground to Soundwave. 

Only this time, he didn't fight at all. 

Had Starscream not been sitting quite comfortably that very moment, he would have fallen to his knees as the telepath slammed into his mind. He must have known, must have felt it, how Megatron had given in. He was ruthless, too, going straight for those specific memories. He paid attention to every detail, as well. The moment when Megatron's last defence shattered, when the old mech had finally admitted that there could only be _one_ master. 

Jealousy, Starscream could handle. The sting of Soundwave's pain, he had not been prepared for at all. With their minds entwined, he'd been able to see and feel, _taste_ , how deep Soundwave's passions went. Oh, how that vibrant spark cried out for something the barely dared to dwell upon. With his longing bleeding through the connection, Soundwave dove deeper still, looking for signs of danger or deadly plots in the making. Starscream prevailed, impassive and calm, never once making a move to stop the intrusive mind searching his own. He simply let Soundwave have what he needed. 

Hook had come while Soundwave was busy, letting himself in. The surgeon had been oblivious of what was happening in front of him, of course. Starscream had greeted him, asked for a report, and the Constructicon had given him a heads up on every change and drawback, discussing Megatron's behaviour with him. Starscream had let the medic prattle away whilst enduring Soundwave's presence in his mind until they were finally done, both of them. 

He'd then proceeded to shout their audios off. 

”How dare you, _how the_ frag _dare you_ , to keep it from me?!”

It had been quite satisfying to get it out of his system, truly. He made sure to inform them exactly how he felt about having to figure it out by himself, too. It had been his fault, and he wasn't in any way trying to get rid of his guilt. It had been _him_ putting Megatron through the Pit right after a rape, but had he known... Had he been _allowed_ to know, he wouldn't have pushed Megatron at all. He would have left Megatron in the care of those capable of helping him. Had he _known_ , he would have ripped his own wings off before advancing on Megatron, but he hadn't known. 

And, that was fragging unfair. 

Hook had not known why he'd been so angry, had defended his right as a medic to keep the integrity of his patients. That was when Soundwave had snapped at the mech to shut up. Soundwave, furiously loyal, had realised what they'd done. It had been _Starscream_ fragging up, but what if somebot else had done the same...? Would they have cared at all? Would they have been strong enough to admit what Starscream's mind had bled through? 

Worse still – what if the attacker had been the one to enjoy Megatron's submission...?

Starscream had not said more, and neither had Hook. Soundwave had just got up and left, leaving a bewildered Constructicon behind.

Ever since, Soundwave had chosen to keep his distance. Starscream was sure that the telepath was trying to see where he fit into this new... order. If he fit in at all. Starscream himself didn't know what to do about the mess. They were professionals, worked together without a problem. Only they didn't touch the subject, nor did they discuss their private life. 

Starscream knew his place, waited, rushed no bot, and otherwise kept out of the telepath's way until Soundwave reached some kind of decision. Eventually, he would have to apologise for having shouted at Soundwave, but not before Soundwave himself showed signs of wanting to be approached. It was the same with Megatron, really. They needed to figure things out, his lovers. Starscream would _not_ be the one making decisions here, because he lo-

Carefully shutting the thought down, never once looking at what he'd been on his way to confess, if so only to himself, Starscream decided he'd had enough of thinking for one day. He didn't need this right now. _And, it's not my choice anyway_ , Starscream thought. 

He gave his calculations a defeated look, then put them away. He needed something else to think about before he embarrassed himself. Luckily, he had plenty of other tasks to see to, and scrolling past several dead-end projects, he came by one he'd almost forgotten. 

He'd called his research 'The Pit' because of the way Megatron's optics had looked while talking about his time as a captive. Vocals hushed, arms around himself, the warlord had forced himself to speak about the environment he'd been kept in. Starscream had been allowed to see this one session, if only because Soundwave thought Starscream's function as a Seeker could be of use to find the cursed place. 

Megatron's face, the hurt in his vocals, had sent chills down Starscream's spinal-struts. He much agreed with Soundwave - it _was_ a Seeker's job, and he was a scientist on top of that. The information he had to work with wasn't sufficient, but it would have to do. He was known to find what others could not, and so it had become a not so little obsession of his. 

The file with the session he'd erased out of respect. 

Pushing the broken bits of his now dead converter to the side, he snapped his fingers. A hologram over nearby mountains materialised above the pad. He stared at it, then discarded it. No, that kind of rock was too soft. It wouldn't do at all. 

”Are you being boring now again?”

There was, all of a sudden, a whole mech between him and the hologram. Starscream rolled his optics, trying to quell the annoyance he felt. His fellow Decepticons knew better than disturbing him, but some were... intellectually challenged. Or pretended they fragging were. Wings suddenly broad, an aggressive tension bleeding into his frame, Starscream growled. 

”Get out of my way, Skywarp.”

No such luck. The glitch snorted, and grabbed behind himself. "What do we have here, mmm?"

”Give that back,” Starscream snapped, refusing to stretch his hand after the pad. Skypwarp, sadly, took that as bait, staring at the pad as if to figure it out. Starscream bit down a curse. Ridiculous glitch!

”If you haven't noticed,” Skywarp drawled on, ”everybot's having a good time. Not you, though. So, are you trying to be boring, or are you asking for attention? Ah, ah! You hit me, and I'll throw this to the Stunticons,” he said, watching how Starscream's face grew darker. 

The mech had the gall to look away from his oncoming death, then scrolled through his current obsession. ”They won't get what this is about, see. They're so very stupid, and will probably end up fighting over it. Unless Drag Strip gets it – then you're fragged, because he'll try to _eat_ it.” 

Counting to ten, Starscream put his whole spark into _not_ shooting his team-mate in the face. This was the mech whose whole reason to follow 'the cause' was a blind admiration of Megatron. For Skywarp there was nothing _but_ Megatron, and he followed their leader out of loyalty, wishing to gain nothing but the old mech's favour. 

A soldier, an elite, lacking ambition. Loyal to Megatron only...? Yeah, not exactly his favourite kind of mech. Starscream got up from his seat, optics furious. He didn't want to cause a scene, and he certainly didn't want to be ridiculed in front of every slagging Decepticon in the base, not to mention Megatron. 

”Pfft, what is this even? Why would you care about... _caves?_ I've never seen you care about anything like that. I thought this world was beneath your thrusters, and all that slag. Soooo, since when do you care about Earth stuff anyway?”

”Since I was a scientist,” Starscream replied, trying to push Skywarp out of his face. The other Seeker gave him a dark look, but stayed put. Starscream looked a the cave-system, optics narrowed. Wrong kind of rock, again. He snapped his fingers, and a cave-system appeard above Skywarp's hands. They both looked at it, but only Starscream knew what he was looking for. Since Skywarp refused to give the pad back, he growled and shut it off. 

Did Skywarp want something? 

”What are you doing here anyway?”

”What everybot else is doing, of course. We gathered here in the case of Megatron wanting us to do something. It's called showing your respect, and you should try it sometimes,” Skywarp said, jumping up to sit on Starscream's designated bench. ”Soundwave sent a message, too. The Coneheads and I are going to have a look at our surroundings. Scout for energy sources, keep an optic on the Autobots, and so on. So, we are just planning the trip.”

”Don't get caught,” Starscream muttered, frowning.

Had Soundwave read his mind now again...? 

”You should come with us,” Skywarp continued, toying with Starscream's pad. ”You are the fastest anyway. With you, it would get done in a beat, right?”

Starscream made a face. ”I'm busy.”

”Thundercracker thinks you are up to something. The whole base is, and I'm taking bets.” The look Skywarp was giving him was too direct, out of character. ”My creds are on Megatron slagging your ugly face before you manage to say 'I'm the leader' again.”

”Did they drop you on your helm when they onlined you?” Starscream's vocals were pleasant, mild even, but Skywarp snorted at him. 

”You haven't been flying lately, and even Thundercracker thinks something's off with you. I mean, what's the deal anyway? Did you just wake up one morning, thinking that being the second best is enough for you?”

There were days when Starscream wondered why he hadn't killed his own team-mates yet. He drew a few deep intakes, and tuned Skywarp's rough vocals out. It was no use – the glitch just loved to have a go at him. It had always been the case with the two them. He ignored the jibe, and tried to access to the information locked away in the pad through other means. It was doable, if somewhat clumsy, but the moment his HUD gave him a clear view of the maps, he moved to the side and continued searching for the right kind of formations.

Caves of all kinds filled his processor. He was not just looking for caves, but a very specific cave. A large one, preferably big enough to house a mech of Megatron's size. It was no doubt a human-made cave, too. And, it was out there somewhere - he just needed to find it. All he had to go by, was that it probably was nearby to the desert they'd fought in, because Megatron was a very large mech. Heavy, and too big to just magic away. 

How had his kidnapper even moved him with such ease...?

”You are staring,” Skywarp suddenly said, breaking his concentration again. ”Does Megatron know you are watching him, this very moment? I could tell him, you know.”

”Shut up,” Starscream growled. He turned in time to see Thundercracker approach and nodded a court, if somewhat short, greeting. They studied him as he worked his way through the files, and this time he made sure to keep his optics on the floor. He soon forgot they were even there, and then he found _something_. He tilted his helm and frowned. No, not that one. It was a mine, not a cave. He gave a quiet sigh and followed another lead. It _had_ to be there, his logic chip pointed out. 

It just had to. 

”Have you had any fuel today?”

”I'm busy,” Starscreamed replied, ignoring Thundercracker's dry vocals. The blue mech got into his line of sight, putting a hand on his cockpit. Starscream bared his denta. ”I suggest you take your hand away, Thundercracker. I might otherwise decide to keep it.”

”I'm sure you would,” the infuriating grunt replied. ” _Fuel_ , Starscream. You haven't refueled in four days, and you are driving Skywarp insane. Sit down, drink.”

”Slag you,” Starscream growled and tried to sidestep him. When Thundercracker refused to let him pass, he curled his hand into a fist. 

”Something's going on,” Skywarp said, looking far too serious for Starscream's taste. ”We aren't stupid, Starscream, even if you think we lack processor power. What are you up to? Megatron is...” He hesitated, then continued, vocals hushed. ”He's different, _but so are you_. Are you trying to get under his armour again?”

_I'm going to kill him,_ Starscream thought in a sing-song voice. He would not discuss such things in the middle of the floor, with Megatron sitting just a few steps away, now looking at their direction...!

”Out of my way,” he murmured. ” _Out_ , or I'll regret having killed you next time we desperately need to find new energon-reservoirs.”

”That is not you,” Thundercracker answered, equally low. His face, always so serious, had a gleam of suspicion. ” _This_ is not you. We know you, Starscream. You should be shouting by now, screeching, punching either of us, threatening us, drawing the attention of Megatron-”

”Getting your aft handed to you,” Skywarp added, a foul grin in his face. ”Come on, Starscream... You might as well tell us. Something's up, and the moment I see you trying to take Megatron out, I'll be getting rich again.”

_Serenity_ , he reminded himself. 

Yes. 

That was exactly what he needed, and so he breathed it in - one intake after the other. Filling himself with calm, taking control over his emotions, while looking at what he once had been, finding it lacking. No more, never again. 

_I call the shots,_ he thought. _Not my anger,_ not _my passion. Just I_.

”...Or, you'd be kissing Megatron's peds, telling him how stupid you are!”

_I'm_ _in charge of myself._

He was in control. 

_And, I have nothing to prove, ever again._

”Report to Soundwave for a disciplinary correction,” Starscream said once he trusted his vocals to function again, looking coolly into Thundercracker's optics. ”Both of you,” he added, lifting his hand to brush off the blue Seeker's hand. ”Skywarp, you will be scheduled for scouting later, and I expect you to be done with whatever Soundwave finds is a fitting punishment for your lack of respect. Now, move out of the way, or I'll take matters into my own hands, which will end with the both of you having broken limbs. _No,_ Skywarp. Not a word. Get. The. Frag. Out. Of my way, and report to Soundwave.”

”You _are_ trying to bed him again,” Skywarp hissed, vocals tight. ”You are going to get slagged this time, Starscream. He's not going to hold back!”

”When the _frag_ did he ever hold back?” Starscream's face lacked emotions, and he moved into Skywarp's private sphere, steadily holding his gaze. ”Have you forgotten we came from the same mold? The difference between us is marginal, but let me assure you that the beatings I got because of my _processor power_ did nothing to my ability to lead. Now, I won't justify my actions to _you_ , either of you. But, you in particular, Skywarp, sneaking behind your officer's back, ignoring the chain of command...? _That_ is the reason you are going to Soundwave. And, let me inform you that the day _I_ decide not to hold back when dealing with you, is the day Thundercracker will try to take my helm off for grounding you forever. Now, give me my pad back, and kindly frag off.”

”Refuel,” Thundercracker shot in, bumping the cube against Starscream's cockpit. ”Refuel, and then we leave you be. I'll even drag Skywarp to Soundwave for you, but first you drink up.”

Megatron was watching him. 

Starscream didn't even have to look up to ot know. It was the familiar sensation of his gaze, the way it felt like hot iron against Starscream's wings, scolding them. It felt like being _branded_ , again. He shuddered, then gave Thundercracker a level glance. What was this one playing at?

”I'm not going to fuel,” he said, vocals harsh. ”Not until we have found something we can safely convert – in this case, something the humans won't miss too much, so they don't alarm the Autobots immediately. When we achieve this, you'll see me refuel. And, what is it to you, anyway?”

Thundercracker tilted his helm. 

”When they shot me down with that weapon, why didn't you go directly to Megatron? Why didn't you inform him what they did to me, Starscream? And, exactly _why_ have you been keeping me out of the skirmishes lately?”

Something heavy settled in Starscream's tank, had it fluttering in dismay. 

_Why...?_

Why had he done such a thing? Why had he made sure that Thundercracker wasn't exposed to the Autobots lately? He actually did have an acceptable answer to that, but a thoroughly buried part of him moved like a wounded beast inside his spark-chamber, coiling as if ready to spring out, just _waiting_ -

_Right_. That would be his mind, brilliant as always, no matter what everybot otherwise thought of him, trying to make him sink into things he'd rather not think of. He quickly dismissed the corrupted memory-files, and kept his head in the game. Why, indeed. He gave a mental shrug, as he already knew the answer. In war, you needed a mix of sharp instinct combined with battle-experience to stay ahead of your enemies. Keeping Thundercracker in the base had been _his_ choice. It had been obvious, sinister even, the way they'd gone for his team-mate at every given chance. 

This had bothered him for a while, thus his decision. So what if he hadn't approached Megatron with his observation? It was _his_ responsibility, not Megatron's, to plan and execute the energy-raids. Still, for the Autobots to attempt to take a hostage – a Seeker at that – it seemed way out of character. Autobot didn't just-

Yes. 

Yes, they did. 

They _did_ attack when you were down and vulnerable, and they _did_ get their way, always. He'd learnt the hard way, hadn't he? He'd hated them for a long, long time. The grace of Vos, the beauty of the spires. His work, his peers, his very _life_ , all gone. They had taken _everything_ from him, and he _hated_ -

”Starscream?”

Shutter-blinking, Starscream looked at the cube in his hands. He was holding it, but he couldn't recall having accepted it. Skywarp's grin was gone, and Thundercracker didn't look like he would let the matter go anytime soon. He grimaced and put the cube down on the table-top.

”That's for the troops,” he said after a while. ”We aren't in a good place fuel-wise, and I'm not out flying, am I now? Just let it be. _Please_.”

”That's it,” Skywarp hissed. ”You are an Autobot look-alike, or a spy!”

”Skywarp, shut up,” Thundercracker said, cutting in. ”Just shut up. I need you to turn around, look like the fool you are, and make sure everybot is too slaggin' busy trying to guess what prank you'll pull next time. No, don't protest,” he continued. ”Just do it, for me. Starscream and I need a long talk, or we'll end up fighting over this, and then Megatron will have to get involved.”

”And, we don't want that?”

Thundercracker's fist came up under Skywarp's chin, gently bumping it. ”Not at all, glitch. I've been having a good time lately, and I'm quite comfy down here, too. After that thing hit me, I don't feel too well, and Hook is still trying to figure out what happened to me. So, peace and quiet – as difficult that might be to achieve, is exactly what we want right now. We can blow a bunch of Autobots up later,” he added, almost smiling. Just almost. 

Skywarp looked between them, optics a thin slit, then he shrugged. He squeezed Thundercracker's hand and turned around, walking off, shouting at somebot to get their aft from his chair. 

Starscream looked after him, frowning deeply. 

Where was his pad?

Had the _fragging_ -

”I'll get it back from him,” Thundercracker said, looking all too reliable and calm for Starscream's taste. ”Was it something important?”

”You have no idea,” Starscream grit out, jaws clenched. Equally tall, faces almost identical, Thundercracker was a mech who oozed trustworthiness. He was no coward, but he actually used his processor where others would just barge forward and get slagged. He balanced Skywarp beautifully, which was the only reason they even worked. Had Starscream been less prone to disliking him, they could have been friends. 

It was hard liking somebot who would have made it better as an Autobot, but that was just him being annoyed. There had never been a question of what kind of life Thundercrakcer preferred, but he had never once tried to leave the army either. Skywarp, no doubt, was his reason to stick around. That, and the fact that they were, more or less, too used to the sorry-afted trine they had. It wasn't impossible to leave a trine, but it was _millions_ of years of coding that needed to be purged, and that was more bothersome to break up than staying. 

Thundercracker shrugged, then sat down, never once asking if Starscream wanted his company. And, Megatron-

”He's not watching anymore,” Thundercracker muttered. ”If it's Megatron you are worrying about, he's looking at Skywarp being a stupid glitch.”

Oh, _good_. Just perfect, then. 

”You are angry.”

”I want to strangle you with your own lines,” Starscream growled softly, but he sat down too, putting some much needed distance between the two of them. ”Now, what thee frag do you want? And, no – I'm not going to offer you information you have no right to ask for. You know how the chain-of-command goes, and you have no place in it. Trine or not, I'm not going to break that rule. Is that clear?”

”Starscream, why did you ground me?”

That again?

Starscream frowned, rubbing his temples with a sneer in his face. That little thing about him trying to keep the fool safe. Pits, since when had he started to care about his trine's safety anyway?

_Since you saved that Autobot,_ his own consciousness answered him. _When you couldn't let the little terror end up in deep slag, or dead. Or beaten and broken down, having his spark raped. You started to care when you took his place,_ it continued, making Starscream feel sick to his tank. 

”I'm not grounding you, as much as I'm making sure they don't get you. They've been aiming for Seekers, Thundercracker. They've been trying to get one of us for the better part of two Earth rotations,” he found himself saying, giving his fellow Seeker what he wanted. His vocals almost broke, but that was because he didn't want his vocals to carry. The disgraceful thickening of his voice had nothing to do with him bleeding _caring_ about his trine-mate. It was just survival, Autobots against them, it wasn't about being a _good-_ doer.

”That can't be the reason, though.” Thundercracker crossed his arms, clearly having none of it. ”You are letting the others get some fly-time, but not me. Why not? Have there been threats against me, specifically? Why me, anyway?” 

He looked around, then settled his optics on Starscream again. ”Everybot knows I'm a grunt, elite or not. _You_ are the processor, Skywarp's the gifted, and _I_ , I'm just what makes our trine work. No secret there.”

”You got out twice just a few months ago,” Starscream said. ”So, don't start with that scrap again. And, I know you aren't abandoning us for the Autobots. You are smarter than that, cannon fodder or not. No bot is trying to keep you off the surface, but let's face it – last time you were out, those twins did their best to single you out. And, that _weapon_ -”

Thundercracker lifted a hand, stopping him. ”You weren't there that time. How the slag do you know about that?” 

Starscream groaned. 

”How the frag do you think you got out of the mess to start with? Just get it already – all this time, you've been the only one to be hit by that weapon. The rest of us have been there, in plain sight, but they weren't interested. When that thing hit? It was aimed at you, specifically. They could have gone for Skywarp, but that cannon just moved past him, never once being fired. The Coneheads have been taking notes for me, from a higher altitude. I put them to follow the skirmishes, sending a direct feed to Soundwave to analyse. I also put Reflector to follow those twins, recording every step of theirs. So it all comes down to one single fact – they _want_ you, Thundercracker. Only you.” 

But why, Starscream asked himself, studying the mech across the table. Why would they go after Thundercracker? 

A mere grunt, even acknowledged by Thundercracker himself. Elite or not, the mech was still just a grunt. 

What did they want with him?

”But, it's only been those two maniacs,” Thundercracker protested, looking pretty much like Starscream felt. ”The rest have been doing their best to kill the rest of you, too.”

Starscream shrugged. ”Yes, but it's my job to look for the things others won't see. If you need fly-time, I'll find something that won't put you anyplace near those glitches. It's just them, for the moment being, but they are armed with a very nasty piece of tech. For all we know, they might have taken some CNA, and perfected it. I don't want them stealing our tech, and I specifically don't want them trying to make some new pet-Seekers, so I'm keeping you away from them.”

He got a long, cold glance. 

”So this is about keeping me out of reach from the _twins_...?”

Starscream nodded. ”More or less. They want you, and they can't have you.” _You are mine_ , he thought, _if I like you or not is irrelevant._. ”Trying to kill an enemy is just fine, trying to _capture_ him means something out of the ordinary is happening, and I won't give them an inch. Killing you – sure, we've lost good soldiers before. Allowing them to take off with you, on the other hand, would be a greater loss. I'm quite sure Prowl would break you. Or, worse still – finally turn you into an Autobot.”

Thundercracker looked offended, but his glare wasn't half as hostile as Starscream had expected. Instead, he sighed quietly. Still keeping his glossa, the mech looked around, only to let his optics rest at Megatron's form. Starscream slowly straightened his spinal-struts, watching his trine-mate.

”Whatever you are thinking of, don't say it,” he warned. ”I might just make it easier for the Autobots and kill you myself.”

Thundercracker nodded, and Starscream allowed himself a quiet sigh. ”I want my pad back,” he said. ”And, I don't want you out there. I have too much on my mind, already. Losing our trine won't exactly be of help while guarding Megatron's back as he takes us back to Cybertron.”

”I'll need a flight, at some point,” Thunderckacker said, now studying Starscream with a face that just wouldn't let itself be read. ”And, if you are afraid of them taking me, then for the love of our dead planet, _refuel_ and come with us. You and Skywarp would keep them off my back. It's long overdue, don't you think? We need it, Starscream. The three of us, our trine... The mess between you and Megatron has always been in the way of our protocols. We don't function at all. I can control Skywarp easily enough, and I _will_ keep him in line, for you. I always did, so if you just stopped being an aft, he would perhaps start liking you too.”

_Touché_.

”What is it you really want?”

Thundercracker mirrored him now, optics piercing. 

”I'm trying to make you realise that we aren't against you. Skywarp idolises Megatron, and nothing's going to change that. Me, I'm loyal to Skywarp for my own reasons. Our trine started out as a thing of convinience, a practical arrangement both you and Megatron benefited from. A pity, really, that we ended up disliking each other, but it doesn't have to be like that. We could be more than just 'good enough', Starscream. Now, will you take the fuel?”

Starscream rubbed his helm, then shook it. ”No, the fuel stays where it belongs – with those who eventually will have to deal with the Autobots. I can be without my ration for a bit more. I won't change my mind. I've said as much before, haven't I?”

Making a face, Thundercracker took the cube and subspaced it. ”Fine. I just... You know what? This is _exactly_ why you could never handle your high-grade. You live on fumes, and that's the reason why you get so easily overcharged. Skywarp's crude jokes whenever you would lose your temper and patience with Megatron? That was Skywarp exchanging your low-grade with booze... Yeah, I stopped it, when I realised it was happening.”

_...That little, fragging glitch!_

”I won't let you kill him,” Thundercracker shot in, a warning rippling through his wings. ”I stopped it, okay? But, let me remind you that it would _never have worked_ if you'd just built up a normal resistence to high-grade, which is what Seekers require to excel. And, what good is it anyway,” his trine-mate demanded, ”starving yourself this way? Why would you even _do_ that?”

”For the cause, and for all the ungrateful glitches surrounding us. Skywarp included,” Starscream replied, shrugging bad memories off. ”Besides, my systems take starvation better than others, and I won't suffer at length. Until we've refilled our storages again, I'll go with less than the rest.”

”Such a _hero_.” Thundercracker growled under his breath. ”You are worse than an Autobot, which is stupid... You aren't stupid, so why do you do it, Starscream?”

”Because unlike others,” Stasrcream dead-panned, ”I happen to believe in keeping my vow. I said I would serve, honour and protect, which I _still_ do.”

Thundercracker looked scandalised. ”That's not the oath _I_ took.”

Starscream shrugged again. ”I had my reasons.”

Thundercracker's face was a map of tired resignation. ”Why would you do that to yourself? Look around you – do you think they are thankful? If they knew that you starve your systems to ensure full rations for their sake, they _still_ would call you a traitor, and weak at that. No matter that you are stronger than anybot around. And, frankly? I think you are a fool – you despise the Autobots, but you behave like one, with both armies look down on you, calling you the worst bot alive... Starscream, you might want to reconsider your life-choices.”

”I don't expect you to understand,” Starscream muttered, finally giving in to what his spark was asking for. He allowed himself one look at Megatron, and found the answer.

There, indeed, was his reason, sitting like a ancient king upon his throne, surrounded by mechs who'd gladly follow the king, but never the mech. He... He'd always followed the mech, from day one. The king he'd had little use for. 

He drew a deep intake, then offered Thundercracker a crooked smile. ”I barely understand it myself, but I won't start explaining myself to you. Furthermore, I have work to do. Scoot.”

They stared at each-other, the would-be-Autobot and the mech everybot called a traitor. Frustration showed in Thundercracker's frame, but the older mech accepted defeat. He flicked his wings, then stood up. 

”So be it. I'll steal your pad back, and put it in your workshop. I imagine you've taken to recharge in that horrid place again. Nah, don't lie to me – I know you do, I asked Soundwave. The cube will be waiting for you – you can't fly without it. Somebot has to look after you, and since I have no reason to kill you, and lack interest in taking your place, it might as well be me.”

Starscream bit down an insult, then nodded impatiently. 

Thundercracker eventually walked off, leaving him seething behind. Slag it, he had work to do and he'd lost time he couldn't afford to lose! Thanks to his trine-mates he would end up pulling an all-nighter, struggling with calculations while hiding from Hook. 

_Look around you – do you think they are thankful?_

Thundercracker's word had hit aim, and the fragger was right. No Decepticon would ever thank him for doing such a stupid thing. Or, they would thank him as little as the yellow terror had done, when he'd been given a way out that night. So, why did he still do it...?

_I, Starscream, vow to serve, honour and protect-_

He'd meant it, see.

He'd truly meant it, believed in it, poured his very soul into the vow. 

Primus be merciful, but he _still_ did, but where he'd once uttered those words with Megatron's face burnt into his sight, it was the face of a beaten and terrified Sunstreaker that came to him. The vow echoed in his mind, scattering his thoughts. 

_I, Starscream, vow to serve, honour, and protect the cause-_

He swayed slightly, felt ill all the sudden. Foggy memories followed – the taste of bitter-sweet high-grade, and rough hands, of him opening up such a careless way. He'd been overcharged, drugged at that, in order to be easier to handle. He should have seen it coming, but he hadn't. 

_I, Starscream, vow to serve, honour, and protect the cause with my very life-_

Staring at his hands, a stricken look in his face, he suddenly realised what he'd done – he had willingly taken the Autobot's place, no matter the danger, and when he'd had enough, he'd just walked away. He had abandoned Sunstreaker, leaving him behind to fend for himself. He hadn't for one moment thought of how his actions would affect the Autobot's situation. Sunstreaker was alive, but that only meant that he was still in the hands of his abuser. 

It shouldn't matter – Sunstreaker was an Autobot, and he had a brother to look after him. Surely the Autobots would protect their own...? He tried to get rid of a horrid _what if no bot knows, or cares_ , and desperately tried stop feeling guilty about it. He had his own problems, he had his own base to look after – he had Megatron and Soundwave to think of!

_I, Starscream, vow to serve, honour, and protect the cause with my very life. I pledge my spark, frame, and mind to the downfall of our enemies. I will fight until my last intake as I accept no defeat-_

Shuttering his optics, Starscream drew a painfully shallow intake. He had never gone back on his vow, and he would rather die than fail. He'd always known that he was made for bigger things than a mere second-in-command post. Bigger things, nevertheless, had never once before meant 'save a fragging stupid Autobot'. 

_I, Starscream, vow to serve, honour, and protect the cause with my very life. I pledge my spark, frame, and processor to the downfall of our enemies. I will fight until my last intake as I accept no defeat. Not even death will hold me back, as I rise to take my rightful place..._

Giving his lord and commander one last, longing look, he subspaced a new pad, and set out to plan on how to save Sunstreaker from his abuser.


	7. Conduct Unbecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no such thing as safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD ahead, please take care of reading the tags.

Megatron stared at Starscream, trying to get his processor around the situation. 

He wasn't the only one – all optics were on Starscream, and the wounds that covered most of his upper frame. Hook, never one to let things lie, had a murderous edge to his fields. The mech was _livid_ , his face a map of conflictive emotions. He'd never been very good at containing his foul moods as it was. The Constructicon snarled loudly at the sight of his usually steady hands, now all trembling. He gave Starscream a dirty look, and hurried to attend to him before the Seeker bled out before him. 

That little detail caught Megatron's interest – Hook was known to have something of a temper, but Starscream's earlier actions shouldn't have affected him this much. He'd never seen the surgeon lose his professional cool like that. Such behaviour was usually reserved for injured team-mates. Today was clearly an exception – Starscream's unexpected heroics had, somehow, made it _personal_.

Movement behind Hook made Megatron lift his gaze, and he settled it next upon Skywarp. The Seeker had put a healthy distance between himself and the furious medic, and he looked just about ready to sink through the floor. He was suffering something of an internal crisis, which was unusual in a mech who was all about brawn, but covered in drying energon, of which none belonged to him, Skywarp clung to a good two-thirds of a broken wing as if his life depended upon it. 

Judging from the bewildered look upon his face, he clearly thought it did. 

_Good._

Earlier, when Hook had ordered him to put the wing down, Skywarp had surprised everybot in the room by refusing to follow a direct order. And, not just once, but _twice._ Hook was an officer whereas Skywarp was a grunt, and his reckless stunt had made Megatron step forward. Skywarp's reaction had sent chills down Megatron's spinal-struts. It had come from the deepest levels of his programmings, judging from the bewildered look upon Skywarp's face, but it hadn't stopped him from acting upon some long forgotten string of code. Flaring his wings, he'd bared his denta in a warning, and while he'd looked perfectly terrified at his own insubordination, he'd slid his arms around the broken wing as if to protect it from _him_. 

It was a first for Skywarp, who'd never denied his lord anything. 

Starscream's tactical silence had been loaded with approval – Skywarp had done something he should have been doing all along, apparently. Megatron had thus witnessed loyalty, so very rare and fragile, between one of the most dysfunctional relationships in their midst. He'd refrained to punish the Seeker for his disobedience because it would have damaged more than just Skywarp's world view. He had, however, ordered the glitch to stay out of the way, _or else._

The Seeker hadn't moved since then. 

In Skywarp’s grip, the broken-off wing looked brittle. The usually pristine, and powerful plating, stood out against the black of his hands. It was hard to look at the state of that wing, harder still to see Starscream this vulnerable. No wonder Skywarp had been willing to make a target out of himself – he was holding onto Starscream's soul. 

Lifting his gaze off the wing, Megatron leant more fully against the wall. Soundwave, ever by his side, shifted alongside with him. The alcove they currently were occupying was shadowed, and more importantly – out of sight, would anybot stomp in. Not that anybot would willingly risk Hook's wrath. Still, Megatron kept his distance, showing respect the only way he could without being in the way. Starscream's integrity, the state of his injuries, demanded as much. Besides, he could see that Hook was itching to unleash one those infamous rants of his. 

The object of Hook's ire was having none of it, long legs sprawled out before him. Arms crossed, Starscream seemed almost bored as Hook carefully prodded the gaping wounds on his back, hands full of delicate tools. Megatron had never seen Starscream like this before – wounded, yes, angry, _yes_. Quietly enduring Hook's insults while being repaired?

Never before.

”And exactly _what_ were you trying to achieve by hurling yourself at a gestalt?” Hook was more than angry. In fact, he looked just about ready to kick Starscream off his seat. ”Do you have any idea how hard it will be to rewire this mess, or how difficult it is to keep the sensors offline while making sure that you don't lose any sensitivity?” No answer. ”Well, do you?” Silence. ”Not to mention how _expensive_ it will be to produce the right amount of hardware if you get the wing ripped off again! I can't fix your wings with the local alloy!”

Starscream didn't reply. Instead, he turned his helm, and kept his optics glued to the door as if he didn't care. The more Hook ranted, the less willing he seemed to interact. This only inspired Hook to unleash what Megatron could only imagine the Pit sounded like, and after a few kliks of that, the Seeker's optics narrowed. A sour expression spread in his face when he realised that the medic wouldn't be ignored.

Megatron had often seen the Seeker looking like that, as if scenting something foul. A scowl, a little twist to his mouth, was all that gave his current mood away. Oh, but Starscream didn't like being spoken to that way, specially not with _witnesses_ around.

”Just fix it,” Starscream growled, clearly annoyed. ”I need to get back to work, and unlike other lucky fraggers with too much time on their hands, I don't even have time to recharge.”

”I can't _possibly_ -,” Hook began to protest, but Starscream cut him short.

”I just need it to be functional, is that clear? Being pretty I can worry about another Solar, so get to work. And, _shut up_. I need to think.”

Tilting his helm, Megatron studied his second-in-command closer, wondering what he meant by that. Everybot was busy, specially after the catastrophe today had turned out to be, but clearly the Seeker felt he was needed elsewhere. There had been no deaths, but according to Starscream's grim face, that apparently didn't matter. 

Hook threw his hands up in sheer annoyance, but was wise enough to do as told. Starscream went back to ignoring everything and everybot. He didn't flinch or shudder, not even when Hook dug for twisted, burnt cables and pulled, then set broken parts straight. The medic was cursing under his breath, working as fast as he could with the limitations he faced. Every now and then, he would give Starscream a searching look, as if confused by the lack of reaction. 

Megatron was equally intrigued – Starscream wasn't showing any sign of stress or acute pain. There should be serious discomfort and suffering. Wings were amongst the most sensitive parts of a Seeker, after all. A quick look at Skywarp confirmed this – the grunt was literally shaking, his pale face twisted in agony he couldn't feel. Megatron frowned, then stared closer at Starscream's face. Why the lack of emotion?

 _Perhaps I just don't know him well enough,_ he thought, crossing his arms. 

”Starscream, I have to know,” Hook said, clearly not ready to let go of it. ”Why would you do something so stupid? What was the point? I saw no tactical reason for you to attack, and I wasn't alone about it. My team and I, we had it under control.” The medic drew an intake, then continued when Starscream didn't lash out. ”You've always been reckless, but what you did was beyond stupid. What were you thinking of?” Drying energon with a small cloth, the medic leant over the Seeker's exposed back, gently cleaning the wounds. ”Did you think at all?” 

Again, that accusatory tone. 

Megatron shook his helm. This wasn't going to end well. 

”How about you mind your own slagging business?” Starscream's vocals were dripping with venom, but there was something in his face that Megatron couldn't really read. After a while, he spoke up again. ”I saved your team-mates from being obliterated, that's what I was doing. You didn't see the modified cannon on Superion's arm, did you?”

_...What?_

Megatron frowned, but Starscream wasn't done yet. 

”You didn't see it,” the Seeker stated, not even bothering to wait for an answer. ”Well, _I_ did, and had I not made sure to keep that overgrown duck busy elsewhere, your team would have lost more than just a fight. Now, a slight warning – when your _second-in-command_ tells you to pull back, you don't charge ahead. Next meeting you'll explain yourself to me, the five of you. As you lovingly put it before – we don't have the resources to rebuild frames from scratch, and in no way did I grant your team permission to leave the base.”

”We thought-,” Hook tried to reply, but Starscream cut him off with a single snarl, looking perfectly savage. Megatron felt heat spread along his lines, just watching him. The Seeker was angry, but in control of himself, and clearly aware of what his status required of him. 

” _We can't risk anybot,_ I remember our estimated leader saying just about ten days ago. Do you recall that you were one of the officers agreeing with him? Because I,” Starscream gritted out, ”did _not_ agree. I said it's foolish to lock ourselves in down here, because if the Autobots find our base, they'll blow us up into oblivion. They are not pulling punches, Hook. The slaggers proved as much today, didn't they?”

Frowning, Megatron turned to Soundwave. The telepath was already looking at him, his optics barely visible through the visor. 

”Permission to speak?”

Starscream looked up at that, shrugging with his good shoulder. Hook went back to take bits of metal out of the gaping wound. The Seeker tensed, his face cut in stone, only a slight grimace giving the pain away. Megatron studied the Seeker's refined features, hungry for any show of emotion. Starscream had always behaved as if death was a minor annoyance. He just barged forward, relentlessly attacking until his foe was down, never once caring for his own safety. It made him impossible to stop, and unless you were strong enough to force him down with one punch, you were in trouble. 

Megatron shot his cannon a quick look. 

His way of controlling Starscream had been far less exhausting, and it had always worked, because when faced with a weapon of his own making, Starscream _would_ stop. The mech was reckless, not _stupid_. 

Starscream's respect of the cannon attached to his arm had never been about _Megatron_ wielding it. He'd never really understood this until he had handed it over to the Seeker for safe-keeping. The cannon had been designed, and crafted, by Starscream, and he knew exactly what kind of damage to expect from it. This was why he'd always stepped down, backed off even, whenever it had been trained on him. His handiwork was just _that_ good. Furthermore, any project of his was rumoured to be nearly indestructible, much like the Seeker himself. 

Making weapons and other useful things was what Starscream did in order to relax. Any time he could steal for himself went into his inventions. The workshop was thus regarded as a restricted area, and not just because of the general safety – Starscream didn't trust anybot around high precision weapons until he'd tested them under secured circumstances. He even kept blueprints locked up, just in case. 

As a perfectionist who demanded _everything_ of those beneath and above him, the Seeker certainly had everybot fooled, because he worked himself twice as hard, expecting far more of himself than he would of others. Starscream simply didn't know the meaning of giving up. Come to think of it, he probably didn't believe in dying either, no matter how tired, or cornered, he was. He'd been called weak, a coward and traitor both, but Megatron couldn't remember the last time his SIC had expressed pain in any other way than pulling back, or giving Megatron – before they'd started anew – a show of weakness. Even when facing death, he would find a way around it, just to stay alive. 

If it took a severe beating, or being bested by Autobots... 

Megatron's frown became a concerned grimace. Exactly _what_ had Starscream been up to earlier? Hook was right. There was no logic behind his attack – Superion was huge, impossible for a single Seeker to fight off. It was the kind of monster Megatron could have seen in their ranks, but somehow, the Autobots had created it. Starscream was to too smart for heroics, but if Skywarp hadn't been there, ready to get the wounded out of immediate danger, Starscream would have suffered more damage than a ripped-off wing. 

”Go on,” he said, crossing his arms. Comfortable against the wall, he watched his SIC closely. The alcove's deep shadows hid his features, which suited him just fine. By his side, Soundwave moved, optics intent on Starscream. Megatron fought back a grin – whatever the telepath felt was important enough to add, would most likely make Starscream growl. This was going to be good. Watching them getting ready to spar made him feel...

A whole _lot_ of things.

When their fights had been about keeping him safe versus having him disposed of, Starscream had never once been allowed to win. Unable to give as good as he got, the Seeker had grown reckless. Megatron had taken perverse pleasure in physically intervening whenever Soundwave had lost ground, using any excuse to put Starscream in his place. The violent struggles to follow had entertained him in the best of ways. 

At some point things had changed drastically, and he'd failed to notice the obvious. To his defence, so had the rest of the army. Outwardly, _nothing had changed_ \- Soundwave and Starscream had always been aggressive, almost passionate, in their approach to each other. They would happily turn every interaction into a battle of intellect, ambushing each other with facts, wielding logic as others would use knives. With Soundwave to hide it, their relationship was most likely _the_ best guarded secret in the universe. 

And, it _was_ a relationship. 

Starscream might not know it, and Soundwave might want to pretend otherwise, but they clearly cared deeply for each other, and what he'd seen that night, when his universe had been ripped apart for second time in a short time, was love. 

He'd felt like an intruder back then, watching them together, and he still did. He’d just chosen to be the bigger mech, quietly admitting that he’d been a blind fool all along. Having seen them together, sleeping so peacfully after having... Primus, the _things_ they'd done…! There had been no amionsity, no hate or distrust, only pleasure taken and pleasure given, until they'd allowed themselves profound sleep, holding tightly onto each other like an old, bonded couple.

Jealousy wasn't enough to explain what he'd felt, because there had been other emotions too – surprise, envy, _fear_...

_Am I still jealous?_

Soundwave lifted a hand to his helm, tapping it gently. Megatron shutter-blinked as the visor slid back. The telepath's gaze held no trace of amusement or fondness – he meant mean business, and would have none of Starscream's slag. 

”Soundwave: disagrees with Starscream.”

”Figures,” Starscream replied with a snort, keeping his face void of any other feeling than mild irritation. ”I'm not exactly surprised, as you can see. Now, the four of you in this room know where I stand in this matter – if we aren’t aggressive when we are out there, the Autobots will come after us, scenting weakness. What I don't want, is seeing our troops putting themselves out there to be crippled by a new weapon that has already proved to be devastating.”

Megatron tensed, not at all liking where this was going. 

The Seeker turned his helm towards the alcove, his vocals low. ”For as long as needed, the main core of the army must remain down here. That much I agree upon.” He looked at his one good hand, and then raised his gaze again, staring Soundwave down. ”Put together a few teams, and send them on scout duty. They can spy on the Autobots while looking for energy resources, but don’t let them engage. I need more time to study the effects of that ray...” He frowned. ”By rotating the scouts, we can make ourselves look bigger, stronger, than we actually are. Something’s off in that blasted ship, and given the opportunity, the Autobots _will_ find a way to track us down. You saw what happened today – that weapon has been modified, and they did not hesitate to use it.”

”Soundwave: aware of the situation. Solution: work a better plan out, or stay hidden.”

Starscream rolled his optics, looking far from impressed with Soundwaves suggestion. His features grew harder, darker, and Megatron's had to bite his glossa in order to stop himself from fidgeting. The Seeker was pointedly ignoring a hovering Hook, and didn't even acknowledge the presence of a flustered Skywarp, who was doing his best to become invisible – grunts weren't supposed to see their superiors at each other's throats, no matter how loyal. 

_Smart mech._

”I will find a way around your stubborn aft,” Starscream said, quite unimpressed. ”We can’t stay hidden, because it will make them come after _us_. We can talk tactics all day long, but have you forgotten about the new arrivals? All those tall, strong mechs? Unlike the fools we've been dealing with, these are actual war machines. They’ve been breathing war for millions of years, and some of them are dangerous, even for the likes of us. These _soldiers_ have now access to a weapon that was design to immobilise a foe. Imagine that cannon in the hands of somebot like Blaster, or even worse, in _Ultra Magnus'_ possession.”

”Ultra Magnus: unimportant,” Soundwave said, vocals dropping to a hiss. ”Fuel, _needed_.”

They stared at each other, and then Starscream sneered. ”Unimportant, you say.” He made a face. ”They have the means to lock us in _stasis_ , with bots of Ultra Magnus' calibre around. You know that they are up to something, and today they were herding us, forcing our steps closer to Primus knows _where_. What was supposed to be an easy scouting mission turned ugly. There was a frenzy behind the attack that hasn't been there before. It can't be ignored. Yes, we need the fuel, but they are done playing, and we can't afford being on the losing side anymore.” 

” _Soundwave_ -”

”No.” Starscream cut him off, and something in his tone shut the telepath up. ” _Your_ job is to advise our leader, and mine is to keep us safe. The mess today? _Should never have happened._ I told the Combiner teams to stay put, but still you gave Scrapper's team permission to come after us. As a result, we almost lost a gestalt to the Autbots.” He didn't mention his wing, but then he didn't have to. ”I'm still your superior, no matter how much our lord favours you, and I will not suffer a break in the chain of command again. Are we clear?” 

Soundwave lowered his gaze, showing throat. Megatron remained impassive, watching them in silence. He would have preferred to handle this in privacy, but Starscream’s authority had been undermined as it was. This one, he would stay out of. He wasn’t the only one remembering their audience, either. Soundwave froze, then snapped his helm up. Slanted optics narrowed dangerously, moving first over Hook, then to Skywarp. 

Neither looked him in the face, avoiding the rare sight like the plague – Hook knew his place, wasn't about to try his luck, and Skywarp made sure to keep his optics on the broken-off wing, hugging it closer to himself, as if trying to hide behind it. The telepath nodded, then looked at Starscream again. 

”Affirmative.”

”Good,” Starscream said after a klik, vocals softer. ”We can't afford another episode like today again, Soundwave. It simply won't do us any good, and we won’t gain anything by it. I don't care what they throw at us – we’re done taking the bait. From now on, we fight on our own terms, and not at the Autobots' whims.”

And just like that, Starscream had taken control over the situation. Megatron didn’t know whether to curse, or to be impressed, because it was no small feat. Soundwave had failed to see it coming, too. It had never happened before, at least not in the open. Megatron didn’t detect any actual anger in Soundwave’s fields. The only reason the telepath was looking like murder and a half, was because he'd been bested in public.

”Query: orders?”

”I want your spies ready to sneak in behind the enemy lines,” Starscream said, his one good wing shifting slightly. He winced, then went on. ”I asked something rather specific of you before this slag exploded in our faces. Did you do as asked?”

Megatron smiled wrily, feeling... elated. Overcharged, almost, at the sight of what would be Starscream in his natural habitat. He ought to know better, but at the end of the day, he was just a mech, and issuing orders _really_ suited- 

Soundwave bumped gently into him, and Megatron turned his helm to look down at him. His oldest friend regarded him in silence, a pleasant, if knowing, look in his partly visible face. There was no mental probe coming from him. Megatron felt a wave of confusion, and then it dawned him – the telepath was waiting for his approval. 

There were _rules_ to adhere to, and clearly Starscream had felt the need to remind them of how things were supposed to be. So what if he issued orders on a daily basis, and otherwise ran the whole base by himself? _Megatron_ was their leader, the real power behind his orders. The Seeker knew that his authority did not surpass Megatron's own, no matter the recent development between them. 

Megatron’s optics moved from the telepath's gaze to Starscream's dark faceplates. The Seeker radiated self-control, all cool and distant. Something moved between them, and as a result, Megatron's E.M fields expanded. The very air felt charged. Starscream gave him one of those long, spark-shattering looks of his, the fine lines in his otherwise youthful face lending him unquestionable authority. Megatron felt measured, weighed. The Seeker's optics burnt with expectation. _Make me proud_ , they said. 

Beneath his inspection, Megatron felt the need to stand straighter.

Starscream's demands on him as a leader were absolutely justified. He was supposed to be stronger, better, _fiercer_ , than everybot else – Starscream included. Even now, the Seeker remained a rival of sorts. His approach to obedience nothing short of alarming, and if his hard work wasn’t appreciated, or his integrity respected, _hell_ would ensue. 

Megatron had learnt the hard way what happened when there was no balance between what the Seeker expected, and what he actually got. Starscream respected brutal strength, but he wouldn't suffer stupidity. He would survive, no matter the cost, and submit if forced to, but Primus help you if you made him to lose face... 

It had taken Megatron a lifetime to undestand that Starscream’s ambition was exactly what he should have encouraged, all along. It was in the Seeker’s nature to push – how else to ensure that the strongest was fit to lead? How could Megatron himself excel, and grow as a leader, if he wasn’t challenged? In order to keep the throne, one had to be deserving of it, and no bot knew this better than Starscream. 

A _wise_ leader would thus make use of Starscream’s strength. A bad one, would see him only as a threat, and thus ask for treason. 

Megatron drew a shuddering intake. 

How odd, to fully understand what drove Starscream. 

Something shifted in Megatron’s spark, making it hurt. _Foolish, old thing._ Cycling air slowly, he quietly admitted, if so only to himself, that he’d been wrong in just about everything when it came to Starscream's motives. 

A soft rustle drew his attention back to Soundwave, and for the smallest of moments, his mind stalled. Soundwave was one of two fixed points in his life, lent him balance, where the Seeker made him excel. Furthermore, Soundwave – whose gifts were the driving powers behind his empire, had been the first mech to ever have faith in him. To him, much unlike Starscream, the cause would always come second to his lord. 

When they'd first met, Soundwave had been near insanity, cursed with an ability that had been ruthlessly boosted until it had all but broken his processor. Afraid of losing himself, he’d searched for something, _anything_ , that wouldn’t consume him – a focus strong enough to maintain, and preserve, his own identity around, before there was nothing left of him. His desperate search had lead him straight to Megatron, who had willingly become his anchor. 

From that moment on, they had been inseparable. 

When ever Megatron had doubted himself, when he'd faltered and lost ground, a single look at Soundwave's unmasked face had put him right on tracks again, his faith restored. He would never go back on his promise to Soundwave. To break such trust was unacceptable, because all Soundwave had ever demanded- 

_No_ , Megatron corrected himself. _Soundwave never once demanded anything. All he did, was to_ hope _you would be a decent leader._

Only he’d stopped being decent when Starscream had exposed his shameful secret, without understanding what he’d uncovered. After that, Megatron had changed to the point where he’d become the very image of Soundwave's old master, just never to Soundwave. He wasn't proud of whom he’d become, and one day... _One_ day he would dare himself to ask Soundwave the crucial question - _Did you choose_ him _because of how I behaved, or because I just wasn’t strong enough...?_

Megatron would be the first one to admit that he’d confused great physical strength with fortitude, which was Starscream's forte. He had the mettle Megatron lacked as a leader, something Soundwave must have known all along. Had his interest thus been piqued when Starscream had refused to break, or was it when Starscream's true ambition had started to show? 

A part of him craved to know – Soundwave had followed him to the very end of the universe, never once questioning his leadership, or leaving his side. The telepath's loyalty was the one unspoiled thing in his life, and also what he treasured the most. And, now his spark felt like shattering, because it hadn't been the idea of killing the Prime that had kept him on the task, after all... 

_No wonder seeing him with Starscream hurt so bad._

Buried deeply inside of him, something horribly tender, bloomed. It hurt, to have a moment of clarity in the midst of a crisis that demanded his attention. Jaws aching with the force of keeping himself from cursing, he looked up from Soundwave's unmarred face. He was met by Starscream's placid, knowing gaze. 

For so many years, all he'd ever wanted was to best the Seeker. He'd fought so hard to become stronger, fiercer, to be the more determined one. He had been left with no other choice but to forge himself into a weapon, because Starscream _knew_. He'd been dangerous enough before, but once exposed, he'd gone ruthless – just like Starscream was without even trying. Harsh words in private, beatings – nothing had worked. Starscream would not be made to kneel. 

In the end, it was the Seeker's pride, and high opinion of himself, that had given Megatron the solution to his problems. At that point of time, _everybot_ admired Starscream as much as they feared him. Such was his authority, that when he spoke, bots listened as if their life depended on it. He was as highly regarded as their lord, so when Megatron proceeded to ridicule him, tearing him down in public, the mess hall had erupted in nervous laughter. Starscream had been unable to defend himself without losing face, but Megatron hadn't stopped there. A slap, not even hard, had followed, forcing the Seeker to lose his balance. Primus, but the sheer amount of _shame_ he'd put in that perfect face... 

Megatron's choice of weapon, the ability to hit were it hurt, had been based upon an innate understanding that Starscream had been meant for greater things. 

_And_ , Megatron asked himself, _what is greater than Soundwave's affection?_

He grit his denta when the words sank in. 

_Starscream had won_ , and he hadn't even bothered to inform Megatron. Instead, he’d spent millions of years protecting Soundwave's integrity, taking beating after beating, never once breaking the telepath's trust in order to deflect Megatron's ire. 

How did one compeate against _that_ …? 

Megatron had started out as a good enough leader, only to go to a place that was entirely unfit for anybot in charge. What he'd done to Starscream was vile, nothing short of conduct unbecoming an officer of his rank. He'd put others down for lesser crimes, but luckily, he was still in charge – it was in his power to rebuild what he'd sabotaged. He _had_ to, because both Starscream and Soundwave had made their demands clear. 

They _expected_ him to lead, and for once, to do it well. 

A shudder ran up and down Megatron’s spinal-struts – a physical response to the relief that flooded his aching spark. He had to lock his knees to remain standing, because fatigue followed in tow, making his limbs heavy and numb. It felt like he'd climed a great mountain, dangerous and steep. He almost laughed, because in a way, he actually had, only it had taken him far too long to reach the top. A moment of clarity later, and he could finally _see_ , and just like that, everything came together. 

The time for self-delusion was over. 

Almost afraid of it, he let his gaze move between Starscream and Soundwave, wondering whom he would have been if neither of them, or just one, had come his way. Together, they had shaped him, and they knew him better than anybot else – himself included. One had bitterly fought him, the other had patiently waited for him, but neither had abandoned him. Not even at his worst, when raving mad, or raped and broken. 

He... 

He felt like running, actually. Only he was done running, and he would never again lie to himself. He had to... Needed to... He almost ran, but instead of leaving the room, he studied himself the same way he'd done under Soundwave's gentle guidence, took himself apart to fully understand what he was feeling. 

_Soundwave..._

What he felt for Soundwave was deep and seasoned, old love. Blast him, for failing to notice how the last two years had changed their relationship. It was Soundwave's unfailing dedication that had given him strength enough to fight off the worst of his fears after the assault, and he alone had kept Megatron’s morale high, guiding him forward, making sure he took steps to heal. Soundwave was patient, waited for him, and when ever Megatron lost sight of what had to be done, the telepath would gently set him right again. 

Soundwave, so loyal and faithful, had always been the life-companion Megatron had never deserved, or even seen coming. His choice to make Megatron his first priority had not gone unnoticed by his enemies, further alienating him from those who cared little for his protected position. During the time of his healing, when Megatron had been at his weakest, Soundwave had been given the keys to his mind. _Nothing's going to hurt you_ , the telepath had said. He had kept his word, too. Megatron hadn't been aware of how close to mutiny they had been, but Starscream had informed him that any, and every attempt, had been dealt with by Soundwave himself. The telepath had been _savage_ in his pursuit of any threat directed at his master. 

After all these years, he was still protecting the mech behind the title. 

It... was endearing.

Nowadays the touch of Soundwave's mind felt like a lover's first, sleepy kiss in the morning, and his habit of pressing his lips to Megatron's knuckles felt alarmingly good. The associations this simple gesture brought were delightfully intimate, and _many._ Those lips, so full and pretty... Would they taste like sweetly, aged energon against his starving glossa...? 

His tank flipped. 

Megatron shuddered, and cursed himself for... For what? _Feeling?_ How could he not, when Soundwave's gaze held such warmth? It did things to a mech to be regarded in such a way, and despite his shortcomings, he was still a mech. A mech who desperately wanted to possess what Soundwave had to offer, because Soundwave, he realised with a sinking sensation, was everything a mech could dream of, fall in love with, and die for. 

And, to think that he’d burnt his bridges with the telepath the moment he’d proved to be a leader in name, but not at spark. 

_Oh, you sorry-afted fool... Look at what you destroyed, just because you couldn't stand weakness._

Shaking his helm in defeat, he met Starscream's gaze. 

Gifted with a processor brilliant as the sun, and strength to match it, Starscream was passion personified. The Seeker made beautiful bots look dull, boring even. He'd always been accused of using his looks to get what he wanted, but that was a lie. Starscream knew what his looks did, and let others crush themselves against the walls he had surrounded himself with. He was perfect, but his kind of beauty came with a price he hadn't been willing to pay. No wonder he kept everybot at bay – no matter what he did, he was punished for it – be it his brilliant plans, his inventions, or his victories. The 'verse wanted to hate Starscream for what, and whom he was, and he owed it _nothing_. 

Those walls had done little to prevent Megatron's infatuation, and where others merely stumbled, he'd fallen to his knees. Unable to ignore the shameful need to submit, he'd reached a point where his programming had collided with his status, creating a desperate situation he hadn't been able to handle. Looking back, Megatron wondered how he at all had managed to function beneath the stress, let alone lead. 

_No more lying_ meant admitting that Starscream had dominated his life upon entering it. The Seeker had known, somehow, what it took to rule Megatron, strongest of all...

With Starscream, there were no games – his love felt like riding a thunder storm, being hit with bolts of ecstasy charging you from withing until you knew nothing but pleasure. _Primus_ , but there was nothing about the Seeker he _didn't_ love, and fear. Starscream could shatter a lover's will with an ardent kiss, could reign without forcing himself upon the object of his desire. It had to be freely given, but once the power was exchanged, Starscream would demand _everything_ in order to break his lover in the best of ways. 

Being on the recieving end of this had given Megatron a deeper understanding of Starscream's true nature – the Seeker would _never_ desert those who put their safety in his hands. And, when it had been _Megatron's_ turn to deal with the aftermath of having been taken apart, and put together again, Starscream had curled around him, keeping him warm, making him feel safe, protected. 

He hadn't even known there was such a thing as aftercare, but Starscream had made sure to provide it for him, watching him throughout the night without asking for anything in return. 

It took great strength to be that selfless, and the ability to remain uncorrupted when faced with _that_ kind of power, spoke for Starscream's integrity. His refusal to fail the shivering mess Megatron had become had laid the fundation to rebuild what had been humbled. He'd soothed Megatron when he'd been nothing but a sobbing mess of emotions, all lost and confused, in need of an embrace, of gentle words-

Megatron cycled a slow intake, staring at nothing.

 _Primus... I… I need... I want..._

All of it – _both of them_ – and, he couldn't possible be made to choose. 

It was, perhaps, the way Starscream's features softened when his gaze slid over Soundwave, that gave Megatron the answer, and much needed solution, to all the unnecessary tension that had surrounded them lately. As his mind tried to grasp the beautiful, yet in its simplicity, _terrifying_ concept, he came to the conclusion that it actually made perfect sense – they were compatible, where they not?

He felt like laughing. 

Or was it crying? 

_We need to talk,_ he almost blurted out, barely stopping himself in time. There were things not even Hook had the right to know of, and their relationship was one of them.

Gathering his wits, he was about to order Hook and Skywarp out of the medic bay when the door suddenly was pushed open. In came Onslaught, Motormaster and Scrapper, all talking in each others' mouth, obviously having some kind of matter to solve. It took Megatron a nano-klikk to notice that Scrapper was losing ground – the mech was too level-headed for his company. Trailing behind Motormaster was Onslaught, rubbing his helm in quiet annoyance. 

Megatron swallowed an oath. 

_Fine, another time, then._

Motormaster's hollow vocals suddenly managed make itself heard above the chattering of Hook, who looked ready to punch somebot in the face. No wonder – he was working with a patient who would gladly shoot him in the face if he so scratched the wrong cable. Skywarp stepped forward to help, but the surgeon swatted his hands away, shaking his helm furiously. The lack of response from the officers left him quietly seething, hands full of precision tools and a foul mood upon that. 

Skywarp looked over Motormaster's shoulders, and met Megatron's gaze. There was a question in his optics, which Megatron answered with a grimace. _Give me away_ , it said, _and I will make your life far more miserable than Starscream ever could._ Skywarp's optics widened, and he hastely looked away in order to keep Megatron's presence a secret.

 _Good choice,_ Megatron thought. _Now, what is this?_

Since the three officers failed to notice him as they positioned themselves in front of Starscream, he decided to stay back, and listen to whatever complaint they were to throw at the Seeker. He _really_ wanted to know what could possibly be important enough to justify this intrusion on Starscream's privacy, not to mention the invasion of Hook's domain.

Of all his officers, these three together usually meant trouble. They were rivals, in terms of influence and loyalty both. Each would plead for their own case, trying to make him see why _their_ combiner team should get more energon than the others. If forced to, he would put them in place, but more than often, it was Starscream's privilege to deal with them. The Seeker would briskly remind them that everybot was entitled to an _equal_ amount of fuel, and didn't they have somebot else to pester anyway?

It was a SIC's job to filter things out, and Starscream was _very_ good at his job. It would do him well to see what the Seeker had to deal with on a daily basis. 

As the officers stalked forward, Megatron's optics went to Motormaster out of habit. As always, something in Motormaster's apperance made him uncomfortable. The way the mech insisted on gesticulating had always annoyed him before the assault, but after it, it had triggered him. He forced himself to intake evenly, unable to ignore how the sight of the mech's hands almost sent him to hysterics. Right after the attack, he'd suspected Motormaster – if not for sheer size, then for his less than caring personality. 

It was widely known that Motormaster's team was held in a tight leash. It had taken some time to ensure that nothing but discipline was dished out, but he still had his doubts. A gestalt was difficult to fully investigate, but seeing how problematic Menasor's behaviour was, a whole lot more of digging would be done before he was satisfied. He would not suffer having a sadist attacking his own team-mates, and thus he kept his optics on the mech through Soundwave's spies. Come the slightest inkling of Motormaster enjoying things forbidden, the mech would face _him_ , and not the fearful wretch from a year ago.

It was personal, that much he was willing to admit. He'd _made_ it personal because there were quite a few unsavoury rumours circling in the base. Some of them were clearly just somebot being bored, but the others...

 _Just in case_ , he told himself. Optics glued to Motormaster's back, he forced himself to relax shoulders, arms crossed. He wasn't sure about Motormaster at all, which automatically put him in the list of suspects. Never mind that he _needed_ Menasor – he would personally kill the slagger if Soundwave's spies came back comfirming his suspicions. He would rather listen to his fear than being sorry at a latter stage. 

The officers surrounded Starscream, and they had the gall to continue arguing as if he wasn't sitting there, his back bare and unprotected. He was _vulnerable_ , crowded by mechs he had no reason to trust. Hook he barely cared for, Skywarp he dissmissed as fool. Another bot would have shown signs of distress, but Starscream looked as if nothing could break his icy behaviour. Megatron felt the ghost of a smile in his face – leave it to the Seeker to look like his fellow officers were nothing but the dirt beneath his thrusters. 

”We shouldn't just let them get away with it,” Onslaught was saying, hands upon his hips. ”And we should go for that weapon – we could win the war with it! If it takes a gestalt down, then imagine what it would do with a regular mech.” He seemed far more interested in that weapon, and was ignoring how it had it had almost cost Hook his life. If it hadn't been for Starscream, they would have been without a medic. ”Anyway, as long as the Autobots have it, we'll be forced to predict their every move.”

”Let them try,” Motormaster said, impassive face cold as the Pit. He lifted a fist, and Megatron tensed. ”If they come, Menasor will be ready. They are no better than organics, trying to take us on. The Autobot gestalt-team is _weak_ , easy to separate from the support teams. I say we go after their Seekers. We can take them out if we put everything into it. Give my team enough energon, and I'll show you what we can achieve. Glory to the Decepticon army, glory to Menasor!”

”Bruticus has always been the team to handle them, ” Onslaught said, giving Motormaster a cool glare. ”We are better equiped for it, too.”

”You at least qualify,” Motomaster replied, giving Scrapper a withering glare. ”Which is more than Devastator could say.”

”Say whatever what you wish.” Scrapper wasn't taking the bait – the master-mind behind their new home was having none of Motormaster's slag. ”You weren't there. _I_ was, and that weapon broke the neural connection. We lost all control, each locked in stasis. At that moment, we couldn't fuction as a gestalt.” His vocals were almost placid. ”That weapon is a gestalt-killer, and you wouldn't have been able to protect your team-mates either. I say we do as told, and stay below the surface until we find a way to counter it. And, when we do... We destroy it.” 

Motormaster growled. ”Spoken like a true _coward_.” When he continued, his gravelly vocals gradually gained strength. ”Unleash my team upon the roads, and we will see to the destruction of our enemies. Menasor will reign, and we will crush the Autobots!” He looked around, still refusing to acknowledge Starscream. ”Lord Megatron must be made to change his mind before it's too late. The Autobots are growing in numbers, getting reenforcements from Cybertron. If we don't cripple them now, they'll come for _us_. Mark my words.” 

”When that thing hit a single target, it completely destroyed the victim's ability to react,” Scrapper said, ignoring the jibe. ”It needs to be destroyed before they develop it.”

”Destroy it? We can _use_ it,” Onslaught exclaimed, shooting Scrapper an incredulous look. ”What are we, _Autobots?_ The Decepticons have three combiner-teams, Scrapper. The Autobots have only got one. It gives us the advantage, so I say we go after them, pick them apart, and steal that weapon straight off their hands. I'm with Motormaster on this one. And, we were told to stay put, remember? That didn't stop you, and your Constructicons, did it? I'm just saying that if it had been _my_ team out there, we wouldn't be here watching Hook fix Starscream's wing.”

Megatron glanced at Starscream, his frown deepening. He wasn't sure he liked what he was hearing. The Seeker _had_ informed him about the mission, but he'd left vital information out. No backup? Megatron hadn't issues those orders. Had Scrapper known? Was that why the Constructicons had left the base to start with? Scrapper had turned to Soundwave, who'd granted his request. Later, when there was time, he would have a talk with the Contructicons. They _had_ gone outside the chain of command. A reprimand was needed, but for now, he kept his silence. 

By his side, Soundwave suddenly looked up. Megatron followed his gaze. Above them, a gleam of light escaped the shadows. It was gone the moment he saw it. One of Soundwave's spies? The telepath, for some unknown reason, looked far from pleased. 

”Starscream.” 

Spies forgotten, Megatron once again paid attention to his officers. Scrapper's vocals held the smallest amounts of respect whereas the others showed none. It was just enough to keep him out of trouble, but far less than Megatron would have liked. He cursed himself. It was all his fault, and at the end of the day, yet another thing he had to mend. Primus, but having spent millions of years undermining Starscream's authority had caused him a great deal of processor-ache lately. It was as if all his idiocy had somehow soaked into every slagging officer in the base. If Scrapper meant to be respectful, he was failing, but Starscream didn't seem fazed by it.

”What?”

Starscream didn't like being talked down to. He preferred to stand, and make use of his powerful build, when discussing or holding a meeting. Here, he had no choice but to look up when being spoken to. Megatron knew his SIC well enough to see how this annoyed him to no ends. The Seeker's vocals hinted that he also was entirely unimpressed with his unbidden guests. 

”We need to talk,” Onslaught's said before Scrapper could speak up. Hook looked up from his work, a frown in his face. Did he detect danger? He had no love for Starscream, but the Seeker was in his care. The surgeon let his optics move between the Combaticon and Motormaster, and then he simply moved around Starscream, partly covering the officers' view of Starscream's wounds. Megatron could no longer see Starscream's face, but he thougth he saw the undamaged wing's angle shift, making its owner look bigger. 

”Today was a mess,” the Combaticon continued. ”What ever plan you had, _failed._ ” Onslaught didn't like plans to be ruined. ”Our current lack of aggression is getting dangerous. What if the Autobots figure out how to make that weapon stronger? What if they hi-jack a satellite and aim it at us? If they build that cannon in a larger scale, and use it on our base, do you really think we'll survive what follows? Surely you understand what Motormaster and I have been discussing. Plans must be made to attack as soon as possible. Surely you agree?”

Starscream snorted. He was having none of it. Onslaught crossed his arms when the Seeker remained silent, but with Hook standing almost protectively in the way, and Scrapper keeping an optic on the situation, he didn't push any further. 

Motormaster wasn't as smart. 

”Surely Megatron would listen to reason-”

”Your _leader_ already gave you orders, Motormaster. You are to stay put,” Starscream said, interrupting the dark mech with a vicious smile. ”If you decide to break his rule, I will personally deal with you, and give the rests to Soundwave to dispose of. I'm sure he'd happily indulge in some breaking of your firewalls before executing you, just to be on the safe side. And, Motormaster? It's ' _Lord_ Megatron' to you.” 

A threat, dressed up as warning. The tension increased. Hook held his optics on his work, knew better than to pay attention when a higher ranked officer was put in place. Skywarp just stared at the wall, probably wishing he'd been somewhere else. 

Starscream continued only once Motormaster looked away. ”Megatron won't listen to anybot in this matter. _I_ wouldn't either, if I was him.”

”But he'll listen to _you_ ,” Scrapper said, optics full of questions. He chose his words with care, as if he expected Starscream come after him next. ”Lord Megatron has undergone quite a few, interesting changes lately. Not all of them bad, but where he might not be willing to listen to reason, you were never one to accept blatant stupidity.” 

That, Megatron decided, grimacing, was on the verge of insulting. 

”Are you insinuating that I'd go against his wishes, Scrapper? Why, it's almost as if you want me to report you to Soundwave, so he can blast you into oblivion.” Starscream's vocals were almost soft, which indicated fury. ”Now, before I go ahead and give Hook more to do, would the lot of you _please_ explain what you slagging need me for? _You_ talk to Megatron, if you are so worried. The old bot hasn't changed to the worse – rather the opposite, which is quite pleasant. I'm sure you'll be able to leave his office in one piece.” 

Praise, coming from Starscream? Megatron felt shaken to his core – Starscream had just spoken up for him in front of witnesses. The Seeker was right, of course. If these fools had come to him with their worries, he would have let them walk away uninjured. There was no need to implement that kind of discipline, and he wasn't about to waste resources either. He needed his Combiners, and he was too smart to inspire mutiny. Still, for Starscream to speak up... 

Warmth filled Megatron's spark, and he felt ridiculously proud. He hoped Soundwave wasn't performing a reading, because he was running hot as well. Had anybot touched him, they would have made the connection between Starscream's words, and the state of his frame. He couldn't help it – there was something beautiful in the way Starscream handled the most influential, dangerous mechs in the army. They didn't rival his position, not each on their own, but together they were powerful enough to cause trouble. 

Megatron bit his glossa in surprise when Soundwave's E.M fields rippled, pouring heat straight into his lines. The telepath's slanted optics were intent on Starscream's visitors, but there was no hiding what he felt. Megatron shuddered involuntary, soaking in the heat. He would have felt embarrasment, hadn't Motormaster's vocals, short of growling, put an end to a most pleasant experience. 

”Lord Megatron might not be willing to listen to us, Seeker. He... He has changed. He clearly isn't willing to take to arms as he would have not long ago. You, however, know better. What we are trying to prevent is mutiny in the ranks. You _know_ I'm right.” He put his hands on his hips, looking as arrogant as ever. ”This is also a matter of pride. None of us want to become the prey of those weaklings. It's shameful, but now the _Autobots_ are the aggressors, and we the ones cowering. If we don't act now, the morale will fall, and it will be all _your_ fault, for not having stopped it in time.”

”I don't care for your tone,” Starscream said, looking perfectly at ease. A second warning, and surely the last one the brute would get. 

”No bot has yet gone against his will, but we can't afford this!” Motormaster stood his ground, gesticulating. ”Things will fall apart – specially after the disaster today.”

”He is right,” Onslaught muttered uneasily. 

”And the tree of you decided to come to _me_ with it?” Starscream's vocals were incredulous. Hook finally moved out of the way, and Megatron saw the Seeker shake his helm. ”Why the frag would you do that? Neither of you ever recognised my position, nor did you follow my orders lest Megatron shoved his cannon down your throats, and now you suddenly decide that I'm the only one able to save us all?” 

With Starscream distracted, Hook saw the opportunity he must have been waiting for. Turning to Skywarp, he carefully took the dented wing out of his hands. The surgeon drew a deep intake, and then pushed down hard, reattaching the wing in one go. Skywarp gasped, wincing in agonised sympathy, but Starscream barely twiched as Hook pulled the wing to the left. A click was heard, but then something sparked. Starscream shook violently. When he could move again, he snarled. ”Watch it, you ground-kissing _wretch!_ That is my wing you are manhandling!”

Only severe pain could force such a reaction from Starscream, but Hook's reaction was instant – he let go of his patient, and slammed his precious tools down a table nearby. His hands still shook, Megatron realised with some surprise. 

”Well,” he said, optics throwing daggers. ”If you hadn't hurled yourself against _Superion_ , I wouldn't be working myself to death, wasting perfectly good tools on your ungratefull aft!” Scrapper shook his helm warningly, but Hook continued. ”I've got three other bots to put together once I'm done with you, and you dare to insult me? What do you think I am, a lowly nurse?” 

Starscream didn't dignify that an answer. 

Hook glared. He subspaced a clean towel to dry the energon of his hands, completely ruining the towel in the process. There was an ill-boding tension about him. Megatron sighed inwardly. Hook was... demanding. Starscream's opinion was far less flattering. According to him, Hook was an insufferable aft at the best. 

”You know what?” Hook threw the towel on the floor, finally snapping. ”If _my_ help isn't good enough for you, then go ahead and fix your own damned wing next time you feel like punching a gestalt in the face!” 

”That punch saved your aft.” Skywarp, once again coming to Starscream's aid, stepped forward. Wings hiked high, he bristled under the attention from the hightest ranking members of Decepticon-hood, but it didn't stop him from speaking up. ”And, it _did_ divert the Autobots' attention from your team, so you shouldn't talk to him like that.”

Megatron exchanged a look with Soundwave. _Is this actually happening?_ The telepath nodded, equally surprised. Turning his gaze back to Skywarp, Megatron felt something close to admiration – Skywarp knew he'd stepped out of line, but refused to back down. If anything, he looked about ready to throttle Hook. 

”So, he damaged a wing. _Boohoo_.” Skywarp crossed his arms, and Megatron was stunned by the hostility he saw in the Seeker's face. ”Our trine is _elite_ , and we've all taken worse damage before. Out there, he did what we do best.” He sneered. ”You're still alive, aren't you? Face it – you owe him your life, not a tirade over how much of an ungrateful aft he is. Because he is, and that will never change.”

Starscream gave Skywarp a flat look, then flicked his newly attached wing. Skywarp stepped back at the silent command, and Hook took the opportunity to avoid further discussions, collecting his tools in order to clean them. Skywarp joined him shortly thereafter, leaving Starscream to study his fellow officers in peace.

”I'm still waiting for an answer,” Starscream announced. ”I want to know why you'd come to me instead of going directly to Megatron. Unless...” He snorted. ”Unless you are trying to undermine his authority, or hoping to get me into trouble by even listening to this slag, that is.” He looked around, and his gaze settled on Motormaster. ”I don't run errands. Did you really think I would let everything fall apart, just because you come in here, saying that all will be lost, and that it will be _my_ fault...?” 

They stared at him, but Starscream had only optics for Motormaster. ”I'm not _stupid_ , Motormaster. I know what you are trying to do.” His wings spread wide, made him look bigger, stronger, all the sudden. ”You better speak up, and quickly. No, don't look so surprised – I _am_ the Decepticon second-in-command, no matter what the lot of you think of me. At the end of the day, _I_ get to advise Megatron on whether to let you keep your helm attached to your shoulders, or to remove it and keep it as an ornament in my workshop. So, _start talking_ or by Primus I will _make_ you!”

Onslaught, standing closer to the doors than the rest, involuntarily backed several steps away from Starscream when the Seeker's vocals gained strength. He seemed baffled at his own reaction, and was about to join Scrapper when he suddenly froze mid-step. Megatron felt a gentle, questioning pressure to his fields, and responded with a swipe of his own. The Combaticon's fields withdrew immediately, because it was _Megatron_ standing behind him, and if he feared for his life, _he better keep his mouth shut._ Onslaught didn't need to hear the threat – he felt it, and remained where he was. 

Scrapper and Motormaster were still oblivious of his whereabouts, which suited Megatron just fine. He wanted to see this. Motormaster was trying to stare Starscream down. The mech, arrogant as it fit an officer, had the gall to look unfazed at Starscream's threats.

Soundwave echoed his annoyance, hissing softly. Megatron nodded. _That mech means trouble,_ he thought. _At some point we'll have to deal with him, but not until we no longer need Menasor._

Soundwave showed no outer sign of having heard his thoughts, but it wouldn't surprise Megatron if the telepath, just like him, planned to get rid of the brute as soon as possible. Menasor was strong, but lacked as an asset, and Megatron would rather have four dysfunctional mechs under his command, than one glitching gestalt out of control. Getting rid of Motormaster would benefit everybot, seeing the mech enjoyed dishing out pain in ways better left unmentioned. Obviously, this had been enough to grant him a spot in Megatron's suspect list. That, and his blasted hands. 

Megatron shuddered. 

”Start talking?” Motormaster's raised his vocals. ”You don't give me-”

”Don't finish that sentence if you want to be able to walk out of this room.” Starscream had a pleasant smile in his face. No snarl or scream would have been as efficient as the near seductive curve of his lips. Motormaster craved power, saw himself as the next leader, but nothing infuriated Starscream more than a mech unfit to rule. ”Now, spill.”

Motormaster grimaced. ”You want me to speak my mind? Fine. Here's what I think – Megatron has lost his strength, and is trying to hide it. Look at all these changes... For what? He might be easier to deal with now, and he isn't trying to kill you. That alone should be addressed, and not _only_ that... You aren't trying to kill him either, and this... _truce_... is starting to annoy a whole lot of bots.”

”You don't say,” Starscream murmured. ”Any other complaints?”

A frustrated growl slipped past Motormaster's gritted jaws. ”If Megatron truly wants us to leave Earth, why aren't we emptying this world's resources?” The large mech stepped closer to Starscream, gesticulating widely. ”I want answers! Why are we still are here, below the surface? Whom are we hiding from?” 

He stared at Starscream, challenging him. Megatron felt his armour shift. Those hands, again. Would the mech never stop moving them? 

”You would know what is going on, don't you?” Motormaster's vocals were vicious. ”You've always been shallow, so very easy to read, in your pursuit of Megatron's throne. Perhaps I just want to know how come you still carry the status of second-in-command after having been Megatron's punching bag for all this time...”

”Motormaster?” Scrapper looked apalled. ”Consider your words, please. And, no matter how you feel about it, Starscream is your senior, and commanding officer both. Perhaps you should try to put your animosity away for the moment being?”

”How nice of you to interfere,” Starscream drawled, looking perfectly serene. A complete lie, of course. Megatron could almost feel the level of annoyance brewing in the Seeker's unholy glare. Motormaster would find himself in deep trouble if he didn't control his glossa. ”So, you want to know what Megatron is up to, eh? Why, Motormaster... Don't we all?”

Not missing a beat, Starscream stood up, pushing a table out of his way. It flew against the wall with a crash. Two steps later, he was staring Motormaster straight in the face. His engines revved loudly. There was an air about him that meant more than just trouble. A promise, surely, of bad things to come. It didn't surprise Megatron – the Seeker's pride had been severly dented, and while Motormaster was a dangerous mech, he had nothing against Starscream, who would have taken on Unicron himself, if he thought the god was having a go at him. 

Thanks to years' worth of ridiculing the Seeker in front of everybot, his officers seemed to forget that Starscream had _earnt_ his rank. He had killed off the competition, and some of the bots challenging him that day, had been just as strong, or stronger, than Megatron. It had been... _inspiring_ to see how Starscream had handled every fight during the unofficial tournament. It had taken all of Megatron's strength to stop him from attacking Soundwave, too. They would have killed each other, had he not interfered. 

That, he figured, had been his first mistake. 

Starscream did not understand the meaning of surrender, nor did he accept defeat. The Seeker was a savage, a highly educated one, but a savage still. Nevertheless, where Soundwave had accepted his role very well, the Seeker hadn't been able to ignore his dominant programming. Back then, Megatron had found him attractive because of it.

Now?

Now the very sound of his soft growl, and the way he stared Motormaster down, made Megatron shudder in delight. And that malicious growl...?

It went straight to his interface panel. 

He stood still, all too aware of the heat between his legs. He saw how Onslaught watched him from the edge of his sight, and he met his officer's gaze. The mech looked away quickly, fear etching lines into his face. _Good_. Whatever Onslaught thought of him, the mech nevertheless respected his strength, and what he could do with it once provoked. 

”Unlike _others_ , a Combiner-team depend on the ground troops,” Motormaster argued, stubborn as ever. ”Menasor, by itself, could never survive alone – we need grunts to provide us with housing and fuel. We _need_ this army – it's about survival. Megatron is dragging us all down with him, don't you see? We are _Decepticons_ , the strongest of our race, and we are cowering. I, for one, will not accept our downfall! And, if Megatron isn't strong enough, then _I_ -”

Starscream threw his helm back and laughed. There were pink smears all over him, clashing against his colouring, but it only made him look like the predator he was. Wings high and tense, he looked like an arrogant prince on the verge of comitting murder. He was... _beautiful_. Megatron wanted to kneel before him, wanted to worship him. Soudwave shifted, and Megatron could have sworn heat was coming his way.

Done laughing, Starscream grew serious. ”Did you just inform me about your planned mutiny, Motormaster?”

The Combiner had the good grace of spluttering, but that was as far as his dignity allowed him. Face set into a foul grimace, he shook his helm vigorously. ”I won't try my luck, Seeker. I meant to say that-”

”You are worried that I'll report you to Megatron, aren't you? _Tssk_ , trying to save your own hide.” Starscream spoke to Motormaster in a low, almost intimate way. ”If you think that I will tolerate any move at Megatron, you are wrong. He is _my_ leader, and as long as he stays worthy of my loyalty, I will follow him. The old bot hasn't lost his strength, _yet_. Come the day, I, _Starscream_ , will lead the Decepticons into glory. Remember this, Motormaster. It might save your life... Touch what belongs to me, and _me_ alone, and you'll spend the rest of eternity dying.” 

Megatron held his breath. 

... _Oh_.

”Is that clear, _officer_?”

Motormaster wisely kept his glossa, and backed slowly away from Starscream. No wonder – the Seeker looked ready to kill. Onslaught inched closer to the door, fields clinging to his frame. Only Scrapper seemed at ease, but with Hook hovering about, the mech felt safe. Perhaps the medic had informed him about Megatron's proximity, but it was hard to tell. It wouldn't be beyond Hook to do so, as his loyalty went to his gestalt first. Still, making the wrong move now would be the same as asking Soundwave to look for traitorous intentions in their bond. 

Most bots would rather admit they were cowards, or take corporal punishment before being subjected to Soundwave's probing, Starscream being the exception. Soundwave raking through your mind hurt like the Pit, but the Seeker had never backed down on a fight. Watching Soundwave trying to break into Starscream's mind without the Seeker willingly letting his firewall down had been far more tense than fighting the Prime. Soundwave had usually won, but Megatron wondered all the sudden if that had been Starscream's choice or if- 

His train of thought was lost when a huge tremor went through the whole complex. An alarm went off, screaming into the night, rousing every bot to their stations. Soon, all functioning sirens were blasting distress signals across the base, and the comms were filled with shouts for help or directions. A nano-klik later, every single comm went down, all at the same time, leaving a vacuum behind. They were cut off. Megatron couldn't hear Starscream's small, tired curse above the cacophony, but he felt it in his tank. 

The officers stared at Starscream in shocked silence.

”What are you waiting for?” The Seeker pointed at the door, vocals cutting through the constant wailing. ” _Go_!” 

They turned as one, and ran into the smoke-filled corridors. 

The sharp scent of ozone filled the room, and Skywarp was no longer to be seen. Hook grabbed a bag, throwing tools and energon-flasks into it. He had a grim look upon his face – there _would_ be fatalities, perhaps amongst his own team. No gestalt left their own behind, not even Motormaster's sad excuse of a team. Combiners didn't have to like each other, but the fear of being incomplete drove. Megatron could see it in Hook's optics. If the Autobots got to his gestalt _first_ -

Another detonation went off, and everything _shook_. Megatron heard, and felt, how the ocean rushed through caved in sections, crushing several structures in one go. Hook wasted no more time. He disppeared into the chaos all but a moment later. _Two detonations in two main buildings, all within a couple of kliks_. Megatron stepped forward. This was no coincidence – it was a well choreographed attack. 

The lights flickered, then dimmed.

A third explosion hurled the world into complete silence.

In the aftermath, the sound of his own intakes seemed unnaturally loud. Megatron coughed, trying to clear his vents of the dust that covered him. Somewhere, glass clinked faintly. A chill spread from the base of his neck, all the way down his spinal struts. He turned his helm to the right, and saw fine cracks spread across the picture window's surface. Outside, debris and whirling sand was all that remained of the Seekers' new quarters. All his hard work, gone. He would have to sit down and draw it all over again.

_Move._

He had no recollection of an impact, but the medbay lay in ruins. Parts of the wall had gone down, and smoke spilled into the room through what remained of the doors. It moved like a living creature, flowed like water. Urgency filled him, but he couldn't clear his processor enough to think, let alone act. Steps echoed deeper into in the halls – something, no, _somebot_ was coming his way. He shook his helm, rubbing his palms against his thighs. _No_. All the sudden, the sound of fighting rushed towards him. It was faint, but he heard the shouts, saw the flashes of blasters in use. They made the walls create eerie shadows, painted distorted pictures, and _he was thinking of all the wrong things!_

He was frozen in place, felt disconnected – all wrong. 

Numb.

He should run, but somehow it all seemed so distant, as if it wasn't real. And, he couldn't take his optics off the walls. The shadows shifted, swayed like dead weeds, as they created horrors against the panels. The smoke had finally reached his peds, whirling around him. His olfactory senses picked up the scent of burnt components. Somewhere, a pipe was leaking, and the sound of dripping made him _remember_...

 _Until next time,_ his rapist had said.

Megatron found himself pressed against the wall, staring wildly at the broken doors. Around him, the shadows moved in a manic dance. Every intake hurt, rattled in his chassis. Somehow, the fragger had found him. Panic made his vision falter, and all he could think of, was how his attacker had lied. He'd said that he would let Megatron come after him, but he'd _lied._

He'd lied!

And, now the monster was coming for him.

The shadows stalked closer, and all Megatron felt was _terror_. This was a nightmare come true, and there was no place to hide. He'd always known it would end like this, with his attacker coming to claim him, and take him back to that awful cave, where he would be shackled again. In the darkness he would be shown no mercy – he was a slave, and he would be bound and gagged, forced to-

 _Move_ , he told himself, vocals soft and urgent. Dread had sunk its claws around his spark, and his system were on the verge of closing down. Fear was consuming him, but a part of him was still fighting the invisible chains around his spark. There were bots caught beneath tonnes of rock out there, crying out for help. Others were fighting. He shook, grimaced as in pain. What good was he, if he let them face death alone? How could he give up, when they had pledged themselves to him? _Move,_ he repeated, mouthing the words. _They need you, damn it! Move. Your. Frame!_

Baring his denta, he managed to move a finger. Then another. Who would it be? Faces and names came for him as he bit down on his glossa, drawing energon. The rich taste filled his senses, enhancing them until he was aware of everything. 

The sound of fighting was waning, but just beyond his reach, something moved and sent ripples through the smoke. He shuddered in acute fear, but then another bomb exploded nearby, and the last light went down with it. Megatron lifted his face to meet his end, and sagged against the wall when Starscream's face, lit by the shine of his red optics, appeard out of the darkness. The Seeker met his gaze, urging him to silence with a finger to his lips. 

Megatron almost shrieked when something touched his shoulder, and he acted out of instinct, bringing his fist down. Starscream caught his wrist before he hit aim, and the instinct to fight the Seeker's grip off was overwhelming. A hand suddenly caressed his faceplates, and Megatron looked to his right, optics wide. Soundwave was still standing there, and the sight of his unmarred face brought him safely over, breaking the spell.

They looked at him, and Megatron realised they were merely waiting. 

_Waiting... for me?_

He felt broken inside, but beneath the pulsing mass of fear and shame, wounded pride slammed against the prison his terror had created. They _were_ waiting for him, and they wouldn't leave his side – had never left it – until he asked them to. 

Loyalty. 

_I faced what I feared the most,_ he told himself silently, looking between them. _I faced_ Starscream, and came out victorious. I let Soundwave enter my mind. I... I am... I am...

Something hurled itself at him in mid-air, and he screamed. 

”I am _Megatron_!” His cannon pulsed, and fired. He was _Megatron_ , and he would never forget it again. It was over too soon, but it didn't matter. Megatron looked down, and promptly kicked the unresponsive mech in the face. He growled in shameful relief, shaking his helm at what he saw. 

The lights came on, and Megatron stared at the destruction. ”Secure the base,” he heard himself say. ”I want everybot accounted for, and every enemy having attacked us listed.”

”What do we do with this one?”

Megatron looked at Starscream, then at the Autobot. 

”Put him in the brig, and find his twin.”


End file.
